


Heart of a Star

by ohmyfae



Series: Dads of the Year [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bullying, Cinderella AU, Dadfic, Happy Ending, M/M, baby Ignis finding a family, neglect and physical abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 20:25:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13395588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyfae/pseuds/ohmyfae
Summary: Ignis was never given a proper name. He grew up rootless in the royal manor of Tenebrae, abandoned and unwanted, until he was sent off to join Prince Ravus' retinue on a diplomatic visit to Lucis. There, he met Prince Noctis, who offered friendship, and Basil Scientia, who offered a home, and his world transformed in an instant into one of limitless possibilities.A Cinderella retelling, originally posted on the kinkmeme!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You know when you're working fourteen hour days at a workplace that allows you to use your phone, and you're so consumed by a fic that you can't write anything else until it's done? This is that fic.

Long ago, in the rocky steppes of Tenebrae, there lived a boy without a name.

The boy had sandy brown hair that curled at his ears and hung flat over his eyes, which were sharp and green as the moss that grew on the stones near the place where he lived. It wasn’t home, though. Not really. Home, he knew, was for other people, people with titles and servants and special clothes just to dine in, whereas the boy? All the boy had were the wild lands behind Fenestala manor, where even His Royal Highness didn’t go, where the cuckoo flowers bloomed pink and white near the cliffs. He had the sound of the wind as it passed through floating mountains, all alight with the sparkling windows of noble houses. He had the cry of hawks, the heather and forget-me-nots, the gnarled old trees perfect for climbing. If there was a home for him, it was there, rooted in the earth of Tenebrae. 

“One day,” he said to Princess Lunafreya, who walked alongside him with her skirts cinched to her knees, “I will learn magic, like the kings of Lucis. And I’ll talk to the birds, and the trees, and I’ll learn their names, and they’ll learn mine—”

Lunafreya laughed. She had his smile, a narrowing of her eyes and a tilt to her lips. “And what will your name be, Ignis?”

Ignis was what everyone called him. Ignis, like the fire he curled up next to every night in the kitchen, like the lamp he lit every evening when the Queen, in her strange, uncertain way, called for him. She’d sit there, a book in hand, watching him with a wary gaze as he bowed and struck the match in his small, fumbling fingers. _She_ never called him Ignis, though. She never called him anything.

“I don’t know,” Ignis told Luna. “They haven’t named me yet.”

Lunafreya’s smile faltered. She let go of her skirts, never mind how the mud always clung to them when she did, and twisted her hands in her cape. “You know, Ignis, it isn’t fair,” she said. “Everyone deserves a name.”

“Not me,” Ignis said. Luna winced. 

“That isn’t true,” Luna said. She looked out over the chasm beyond the cliffs, where the wind howled, mournful and low. “I think… I think she hasn’t named you because… Because if she named you, it’d make you real.”

“Who’s _she?”_ Ignis asked, but Luna didn’t answer. She only shivered in the breeze that ran across the wilds, heading in a rippling wave towards the cultivated sylleblossom gardens, and turned her gaze to the manor. 

“They’re probably looking for me,” she said. “Ignis?”

“What is it?”

“I’d like…” Luna shuffled her feet in the grass. “It would have been nice to call you brother.”

“Then I am,” Ignis said. He held out a hand. “Call me whatever you want. It doesn’t matter out here.” 

Luna smiled again, and reached out to take Ignis’ hand in hers. “Alright, then,” she said, and the two of them walked together across the wilds, the wind at their back, the great high mountains of Tenebrae arching around them in a cold, crooked embrace.

 

-

 

“And you’ll have many fine opportunities,” the head chamberlain said two hours later, standing before Ignis with his chest puffed up like an overstuffed pigeon, “which any boy twice your age would give his right hand for.”

“Do they?” Ignis asked, through the haze of confusion and fear. He clutched his travel bag to his chest, fingers trembling. The head chamberlain had fit everything he owned in that bag, leaving _plenty of room for more, I’m sure,_ and it crumpled in his grip like a starched robe. 

“Do they what, boy?” asked the head chamberlain.

“Give up their hands,” Ignis said. He blanched at the look the man gave him in response. “It’s just. You said they would, and I—“

“The court of Lucis will not be so lenient as Tenebrae when it comes to boys who try to be too smart for their own good,” the head chamberlain said. “Yes, you’ll be part of His Royal Highness Ravus Nox Fleuret’s staff during his stay in the Citadel, but you’ll be expected to get along with the servants who already live there. Which means no clever remarks.”

“I don’t—“ Ignis tried to speak around the hot lump rising in his throat. “Maybe it would be better if I stayed here,” he said.

“Out of the question,” the head chamberlain said. “The king himself has commanded it. And it’s about damn time, in my opinion.”

Ignis waited for the head chamberlain to explain, but like all adults, he acted as though he’d said all that he needed to and more. “So I’m going.”

“Yes,” the head chamberlain said. “And for the love of the gods, boy. Do try to behave.”

 

-

 

Lunafreya was there to see His Royal Highness off at the train station, standing next to the king and queen in a beautiful white gown that just reached her ankles. The queen glanced at Ignis once or twice as His Royal Highness gave his awkward, stilted farewell speech, and Luna had her hands locked behind her back, which Ignis knew meant that she was only just holding down a seething temper. When the queen leaned down to kiss Prince Ravus on the cheek, Luna scowled and turned aside. The queen made a gesture, and Luna reluctantly stepped forward.

“Give your brother a blessing,” the queen said, and Ignis’ stomach flipped as Luna’s eyes flashed with a fire that meant she was about to try something truly terrible. She kissed Ravus, then, as the queen sighed and motioned for her to step back, Luna turned and marched down the long row of servants to where Ignis stood.

“A blessing,” she said, and the pages lined up around Ignis gasped. Then she kissed his cheeks, once on each side, and pulled away. Ignis couldn’t help the smile that crossed his lips when she beamed at him, and when she held out both hands, he held them without question. There was another gasp, louder this time, and they broke away with a start. 

Ignis looked down the line, where Prince Ravus stood, face flushed a mottled pink, hands grasping and clutching the empty air at his sides. Luna stiffened and laid a hand on Ignis’ shoulder. The king, standing behind the queen, looked the picture of barely contained fury. 

“Lunafreya,” he said. 

Luna looked at Ignis. “You’re still mine,” she said. “It doesn’t matter what anyone says.”

“Princess Lunafreya Nox Fleuret.”

“It isn’t right,” Luna said. She squeezed Ignis’ shoulder. “You deserve—“

“Boy.”

Ignis jumped. Ravus’ voice was sharp, harsh as a bark, and he pointed to the ground at his feet. “I need a valet for the journey to Lucis. Come here.”

Luna opened her mouth in wordless protest, but Ignis just smiled at her weakly and shrugged her off. It didn’t do to disobey Prince Ravus, not when he was in a temper. And he always was, so far as Ignis was concerned. Ignis walked behind the other servants, trying to ignore the way they all turned to stare, and took up a place at Prince Ravus’ heels. 

Prince Ravus didn’t even wait for the train to start. He turned to Ignis as soon as they boarded, striking him with the back of his hand with enough force to send him reeling. Ignis stumbled, and Ravus struck again, knocking him to his knees. 

“You’ve forgotten yourself,” he said, in a voice that shook with something more than just rage. Tears made his eyes go glassy, and his hair swung forward from its ties. “Lunafreya may pity you, but you must not think yourself her equal.”

_I don’t,_ Ignis thought desperately, scrambling back as Ravus approached. He held up a hand to ward off a blow, but Ravus just stood there, his face twisted, breathing hard. 

“You’re nothing,” Ravus said. “You’re just a bastard, the low-born son of a common soldier who couldn’t bear to even look at you, let alone claim you. And so long as you’re in _my_ service, you’ll remember that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone honestly surprised that this became a dadfic?

Being Prince Ravus’ valet, Ignis knew, was never meant to be an honor. 

For one, Prince Ravus already _had_ a valet. A proper one, a boy about Ravus’ age named Seb, with long black hair and a bored gaze that passed over Ignis as though he were a speck of mold on the wall. His job was to press Ravus’ clothes, spar with him in the practice courts at Tenebrae, help him with his studies, and laugh whenever Ravus came up with a new and impossible task for Ignis to accomplish. 

The first one was for Ignis to clean Ravus’ sleeper car. Ignis had to haul down Ravus and Seb's luggage from the overhead compartments, hang their clothes up on special hooks that were much too high for Ignis to reach on his own, scrub the floor ‘til it shone, remake the beds, and lay out Ravus’ books just so. By the time he was done, Ravus and Seb were waiting at the door, Ignis was bone-weary, and all the other sleeper cars had been claimed. Ignis stumbled out to the dining car, where he climbed under a booth and curled up behind the tablecloth to sleep. The captain in charge of the delegation found him there a few hours later, and carried him to his own sleeper car, where Ignis slept fitfully while the captain stayed outside, talking with other members of the staff.

Usually, Ravus liked to pretend that Ignis didn’t exist, but Luna’s stunt at the station, as he liked to call it, had given Ignis the prince’s full and undivided attention. Ignis was kept hopping through the whole ride to Accordo, and by the time they made it to the docks of Altissia, Ignis was too exhausted to even think about how much he missed the manor. Still, he couldn’t help staring as they boarded, awestruck by the way the statues leading out of the city were dappled by the light off the ocean.

“What’s the matter, kid?” the ship’s captain asked, in a slow Lucian drawl. He was an older man, his face a map of wrinkles, with a faded cap pushed over his scraggly hair. “Never seen the water before?”

“Never,” Ignis said, and the man’s smile twitched. “If I were honest—can I be honest?”

“I ain’t stoppin’ you.”

“I still think Tenebrae is the most beautiful place there ever was,” Ignis said, “but looking at this, all I want to do is grow fins.”

The man grinned. “Thanks, kid,” he said. “That’s gotta be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about the place.” 

Ignis supposed he was joking, but he didn’t mind. He had a whole afternoon to himself while Ravus nervously went over the proper Lucian way to address a king, and spent it trailing behind the ship captain, who showed him the engine, his brass compass, and even let him put his hands on the wheel. 

“Used to be that sailors navigated by the stars,” he said, showing Ignis the path of the compass with a steady hand. “You ever notice how the constellations move in summer and winter?” Ignis shook his head. “Next time you’re out at night, kid, take a look at the stars. Map ‘em. You’ll see what I mean.”

“I never really thought about stars,” Ignis admitted. The stars were just…light. Little spots of it, tucked away in the distant blue. They weren’t real. The thought that they might be useful, that sailors had looked at them and thought to make a map out of them, had Ignis squinting into the bright afternoon sky.

“That’s alright,” said the captain. “I reckon people’ve done enough thinkin’ about ‘em. But you’re a smart kid.” He swiped at Ignis’ hair. “I bet there’s somethin’ left for you to find out.”

 

\---

 

If Altissia was beautiful, the walls of Insomnia were _magnificent,_ all high stone covered in a glittering dome of magic that spread out like the scales of a fish. Ignis was packed in a van with the other younger members of Ravus’ entourage, and he stared out at the sprawling city unfolding before him like one of Luna’s pop-up dioramas, nose pressed to the window.

“I’ve never seen so much concrete before,” he whispered. There were people everywhere, pouring out of restaurants and hustling across intersections, surrounded by beetle-bright cars that honked and blared and screeched. There were more power lines in a few blocks than Ignis had seen in his life, and big screens latched on poles that flickered with images, one after another. Insomnia was a chaos of light and color and sound, and Ignis’ whole body thrummed with excitement when the van finally trundled to a stop.

“Boy,” Ravus snapped, from the front car in the line. Ignis looked at the bags piled at Ravus’ feet and bit down a groan. At least Seb’s were being unloaded with the rest by Lucian servants, but Ravus must have set some of his own bags aside just for Ignis. Ignis trudged over and slung one of them over his shoulder. 

Seb cleared his throat.

“What do you say?” he asked. Ignis looked from Seb to Ravus, utterly lost, and Ravus rolled his eyes. Seb leaned down, his face a mask of mock concern. “You say _thank you, Your Royal Highness,”_ he said, in a slow, careful voice.

“Why?” Ignis asked. Ravus’ shoulders went stiff. “I mean. It doesn’t make sense.”

Ravus grabbed Ignis by the back of the collar, and Ignis felt the breath leave his body. He waited for Ravus’ temper to flare, for him to shout or snarl or strike, but the doors to the Citadel opened just as Ravus’ grip tightened, making him drop Ignis and turn to compose himself like a proper prince, his expression bland and polite. Seb did kick Ignis in the back of the knees as he shuffled around them, but it wasn’t a hard one. Ignis hefted the bags in his arms and over his shoulders and made his slow way around the car, towards the line of servants carrying luggage up through the side entrance. 

He made it fifteen steps before the bag in his arms began to slip. 

Another five, and he was clutching it with his fingers, pain racing up his arms as he felt the clothes inside go rolling and shifting with each step. 

One more, and the bag slipped free, breaking open as it tumbled down the stairs to spill its contents over the marble. Ignis tried to follow after it, but the bags weighing down his shoulders tipped him over, and he fell, scrabbling for the stairs as he bumped and slid all the way to the bottom. 

He knew it was wrong to cry. The few times he had, back in Tenebrae, people were always quick to tell him how much worse things could be. _The Queen didn’t have to keep you,_ they said sometimes, which wasn’t very helpful, as it was the head chamberlain who was in charge of the palace staff, not the Queen. Or _You don't want the king to hear you make a fuss,_ which made more sense, or the bewildering _You should count yourself lucky to be here at all._

Except Ignis didn’t want to be there, in Insomnia where the air smelled of smoke and the marble cut into his palms. He wanted to be in Tenebrae with Luna, climbing his favorite trees and listening to the wind off the cliffs. He looked up at the fine clothes surrounding him on all sides, the servants watching him in silent, scandalized shock, the circle of well-dressed people standing with Prince Ravus on the stairs by the main doors, their faces turned his way. Ignis raised a hand to adjust his glasses, and found nothing. They must have fallen off on his way down.

Tears spilled over his cheeks despite his best efforts, hot and terrible, and Ignis hunched over himself, trying to block out the weight of the stares at his back. He couldn’t hear anything over his own breathing, which was harsh and erratic and kept hitching into sobs, and so he didn’t realize anyone had run to him until there was a small hand on his shoulder, startling him into instant panic.

“I’m sorry,” he said, through a river of snot and tears and red-faced gasping. “I’ll clean up, I’m sorry.”

“Wow, you really must’ve hit your head hard,” said the pink and black blur kneeling in front of him. Cool hands touched his cheeks. “What’re you sorry for?”

“I… Prince Ravus’ clothes…”

“He shoulda got them himself,” the blur said. “Dad always makes me do _my_ chores. Oh! Oh, hold on.” The blur disappeared, and Ignis hurriedly wiped his face with his sleeve. It didn’t do much but make him feel sticky and miserable. 

“Hey!” the blur was back, fitting Ignis’ glasses on. “Hey, it’s okay. Nothing’s broken. You’re okay.”

Ignis blinked. The blur was a boy, dressed in a lovely black suit with silver and gold buttons. His dark hair framed his face, and his eyes were a startling shade of blue. He wrapped his arms around Ignis’ shoulders.

“I mess up, too,” he said. “It’s okay to cry.”

Ignis sniffed back a bitter laugh. No one had ever said _that_ before, not even Luna, who always had to hide her tears for fear of being scolded. He sat up, and the boy smiled at him, letting go to dig in his pockets. He pulled out a glossy trading card, a phone, a nub of a pencil, and a thick black handkerchief with embroidered initials on the corner. He shoved the handkerchief at Ignis, who took it gratefully. 

“’nks,” Ignis said. 

“No problem,” said the boy. “Keep it, I have a million.” He sat up on his knees, picking up one of Ravus’ discarded clothes. “This is the prince’s? Wow, they sure like white in Tenebrae.”

“It’s their color,” Ignis said. He picked up a shirt, trying to fold it without wrinkling the silk. The fabric slipped about in his fingers like water, and he bit his lip.

“White isn’t a color—Oh. Hello, Mr. Scientia.”

Ignis looked up. A tall servant in Lucian black stood a few steps above them. He had curly black hair and light brown skin, a few shades darker than Ignis, and his cheekbones were high and prominent, giving him the look of one of the statues of the gods in the manor gardens. He bowed to the boy in black and crouched on his ankles, taking the silk shirt from Ignis. 

“Your highness,” he said, and the boy blushed. “Your father is waiting for you.”

“Highness?” Ignis asked, in a strangled squeak. The boy shrugged, looking off to the side. 

“I guess.” He held out a hand to Ignis. “But you should call me Noct.”

“I-Ignis.” Noctis Lucis Caelum, the sole prince of Lucis, took Ignis’ hand in both of his and shook it, smiling, before he got to his feet and turned to the group of watchful nobles at the top of the stairs. Ravus was there, next to the man in gold and black who could only have been the king, and was staring down at Ignis with a cold, calculating look that sent a shiver down Ignis’ skin. Noctis pounded up the steps, his black shoes gleaming with polish, and staggered to a halt next to his father. 

He gave Ignis a little wave. Ignis waved back. 

“Well,” said Mr. Scientia. He dropped a perfectly folded shirt in Ravus’ bag. “You’ve certainly had an eventful first day. Ignis, was it?”

Ignis nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, I can get it—“ He reached for a pair of trousers, and Mr. Scientia tutted. 

“No matter,” he said. “Shame on them for letting a young boy shoulder so much at once. You said your name was Ignis?” He folded another shirt, quick as magic, and took the trousers from Ignis’ unresisting hands. “I am Basil. Basil Scientia. I’d welcome you to Insomnia, but I believe I’ll save that until after you’re out from under the spotlight. What do you say? Fancy a walking tour of the Citadel?”

He tilted his head, and Ignis tried for a smile. “Thank you,” he said.

Basil flapped out a spotless white jacket and briskly folded it into shape. “No need,” he said. “It would be my pleasure.”

 

\---

 

Like the manor in Tenebrae, the Citadel had a complex spiderweb of service hallways and stairs, tucked away like an afterthought while more important people used the main corridors. With Ravus' bags sent up with a pair of attendants, Basil led Ignis through a bright, empty kitchen, past a hall that swam with steam from the laundry rooms on either side, and up a stair with thick black carpeting and a long sloping mirror that wound all the way to the top. Ignis craned his neck and saw the reflection of four young women heading out a door, and Basil winked.

"One of the old Queens was horribly paranoid," he said. "She used to keep mirrors like this in every hallway just in case. There's only this one and the hall on the fifty-seventh floor, now." He slowed his gait so that Ignis could keep up, and the two of them were joined by dozens of mirror Ignises and mirror Basils. Ignis winced at his own reflection: He looked painfully grubby, his hair a mess and his eyes red and tearful, and his shirt wasn't nearly as smooth and straight as Basil's. He tried to flatten his hair without catching Basil's attention, and nearly stubbed his toe on a step.

"May I tell you a secret?" Basil asked. Ignis stared, unsure how to answer. No one had ever told him a secret before, so he didn't know if he could keep one. Basil continued on regardless. "The fact is, these stairs do a number on my nerves. They have since I was a young man. It would be a great help if you could hold my hand until we reach the third floor."

"Oh." Ignis reached for him, and Basil took his hand with a sigh of relief. 

"Thank you."

"It's alright," Ignis said, as they climbed the steps together. "I used to climb the cliffs at Tenebrae all the time. There are these enormous, enormous..." his words failed him, and he waved his free hand. "Holes, in the ground, and they go so far down you can see clouds and storms."

Basil shuddered. "And here I thought I _wanted_ to go back to Tenebrae."

Ignis hopped up a step. "You're from Tenebrae? You don't sound like it. Where are you from?"

"It's been some time," Basil said. "I lived near the capital when I was a boy. It's been, oh, thirty years now, give or take."

Ignis fell silent. He couldn't imagine being away from Tenebrae for that long. Just the idea of it made his chest ache and his stomach twist.

"I'd like to go back when I retire," Basil said. "Here we are, third floor. I've been saving for the past fifteen years, planning for a nice cottage in the country, very far away from any _holes_ in the ground." 

Ignis giggled, but the laughter died on his tongue when Basil opened a door to reveal a large, wondrous hallway. Both walls were hung with tapestries and paintings, with lifelike marble sculptures every ten feet or so. Ignis let go of Basil's hand and examined one painting, which featured a woman standing on a rock, wreathed in lightning, with scraggly bushes framing her on either side.

"This is my favorite place in the Citadel," Basil said, as Ignis ran to the next painting, which showed a behemoth staring at a starlit sky. "All the masters of Lucis have a place here."

Ignis stood as close to the painting as he dared, shocked to find that what looked like a sorrowful frown from a distance was just a blob of paint up close. "I like this one," he said. "With the stars. Someone said people used to travel by them."

"That's true," Basil said. "Though I regret to say that I don't know how."

"It's okay," Ignis murmured. "I'll figure it out."

By the time they made it to the residential wing where Ravus' entourage was staying, Ignis had forgotten all about his accident on the stairs. He chattered excitedly to Basil all the way to his assigned room, and when Basil looked around the small quarters and commented on the lack of space, Ignis couldn't imagine what he meant.

"It's lovely," he said, unzipping his bag to make sure all his belongings were there. "I've never had a room before."

"You shared a room back in Tenebrae?" Basil asked. 

"Oh, no," Ignis said. "I'm a bastard." He pulled out the chapter book he was reading with Luna and set it reverentially on the bedside table. A whole table! Just for him! He opened a drawer just to see if it worked.

"I'm afraid I don't follow," Basil said. He had a funny, closed-off expression, like he was doing sums in his head. Maybe he didn't know what a bastard was. Maybe they didn't have them in Lucis.

"I'm... my mum and dad didn't want me," Ignis said. "Because I did something bad when I was little."

"That isn't what a..." Basil closed his eyes for a moment. "The word you mean is meant for a child born out of wedlock. To an unmarried couple."

Ignis frowned. Basil was nice, sure, but Ignis was starting to suspect that he didn't know _everything._ After all, when there was everyone on one side telling him one thing was true, and Basil on the other saying it wasn't, who could Ignis believe?

"Boy!" 

Ignis groaned. "I have to go," he said. "Thank you for the tour. It was very... Very nice."

He ducked around Basil before he could say another word, and went racing down the hall to the prince's suites. 

He then spent the next three hours doing Ravus' laundry to make up for the spill, with a long, complicated list made by his valet to make sure he didn't ruin anything. Ignis dozed off twice, and when he finally dragged the basket of folded clothes back to the room, Ravus and Seb were in their beds, talking quietly.

"And she ruined our reputation just because she couldn't figure out what to do with him," Ravus was saying, and stopped, drawing up his knees as Ignis backed into the room. "Boy."

Ignis tried closing his eyes like Basil. "Your royal highness," he said.

"The queen used to summon you to her rooms," Ravus said. He twisted his cuff in one hand. "What did she say to you?"

"Nothing," Ignis said. He started hanging up Ravus' clothes in the closet. "She never said anything."

"Not once?"

Ignis looked to the side. Seb was watching them intently, a hungry look in his eyes. "Once," Ignis said, slowly, like the words were being dragged out of him, "she asked if I was happy."

"And what did you say?" Ravus asked.

Ignis pinned up his jacket. "I don't know."

"You don't remember?"

"No," Ignis said. He placed Ravus' trousers in his dresser drawer. "I said I don't know."

Like his mother the queen, Ravus said nothing. Ignis finished putting away his clothes, set the laundry basket in the corner, and went tottering off to his new bed. There, he sank into the warm blankets and dreamed of walking the edge of the cliff at the manor, Basil on one hand, Noctis on the other, with Luna running before them with her golden hair whipping about in a wind off the ravines. And above them, clear and beautiful and leading them home like an arrow on a compass, was a sky full of stars.


	3. Chapter 3

Life in the Citadel was a curious thing. Ignis woke not by the hearth of the manor kitchen, but in a bed, tangled up in a nest of sheets with a pillow shoved to the floor. He had a new white and black uniform to wear, which was a little bulky but soft to the touch, and there was a mirror on the dresser so he could get his hair in a semblance of order. The bathroom down the hall was crowded, yes, but Ignis had just enough time to shower and brush his teeth before it was time for the morning roll call. He went to the end of the line of servants waiting for their weekly tasks and lessons, and tried to hold himself straight and still as a statue.

“No soot on your face this morning,” one of the pages said, scrunching up her nose. “Miss your fire, Ignis?”

He clasped his hands behind his back like Luna, and ground his teeth together as the captain of their entourage walked down the line, handing out assignments while Prince Ravus nodded curtly at his side. Hope stirred in Ignis’ chest when the captain reached him, holding a white card in his hand. 

“He’s with me,” Ravus said, and the captain slowly folded the card, slipping it into his pocket with a frown. Ignis wanted to reach out and snatch it from him, to wave the instructions in Ravus’ face, but he only lifted his shoulders in a small, helpless shrug. 

Breakfast was in a dining hall twice the size of the luncheon room at home, with tables stacked high with silver trays. Ravus asked Ignis to wait on him, which Ignis had already suspected would happen, but he was stopped when a short, dark-haired man approached them, wearing the uniform of the Lucian Crownsguard.

“Your highness,” he said. “Cor Leonis, captain of the Crownsguard.”

“Ah, yes,” Ravus said, clearly uninterested. “Good morning.”

“If I may speak to your young man, here,” Cor said. He didn’t look at Ignis or Ravus, choosing to stare somewhere into the middle distance. Ignis turned to see what he was looking at. “The Crown respects your autonomy in where you place your staff, but we are understaffed in one or two sectors of our own, and wished to assess—“

“Fine,” Ravus said, sitting down at one of the long, high tables. “So long as he can do his chores afterwards, he’s yours.”

Cor finally looked Ignis’ way. 

“I’m not really good at anything,” Ignis said. Where did Lucis need him? What kind of work did they put pages to all the way across the ocean? He followed Cor numbly, sitting down with a thump at a table in the corner.

Cor looked at Ignis’ hands, tracing whorls in the wood in ever tighter circles. “You gonna eat anything?” he asked. Ignis flinched. 

“Should I?”

Cor Leonis stood with a grunt. “Stay here,” he said, and walked off. He came back bearing two trays, one with ham, eggs, and thick toast dripping with butter, the other with a bowl of what looked like grilled fish on rice. He set the first tray down in front of Ignis and sat himself on the other side of the table. The toast was fantastic, light and fluffy and rich, and Ignis was halfway in before he realized Cor was speaking.

“What does a day in Tenebrae look like for you?” he asked. Ignis struggled to swallow.

Ignis drummed his hands on the table. “I wake up in the kitchen, so I clean there and help start the fires. That part's fun. Then Luna comes in to work on my reading, if she has time. And maths. I’m very good at maths. Then when the cook doesn’t need me anymore, I…” he waved a hand. “You know. Boot work.”

Cor raised an eyebrow.

“It’s when you get all the boots people leave outside and take them to the boot room,” Ignis said. “I’m too young to polish, but the chamberlain says he’ll teach me anyways. Then I help with laundry, and sometimes I go to the wilds by myself for a bit, or Luna comes with me, and then I serve at table, and I… Oh, I forgot meals. Should I have added meals?”

“You could stand to add more,” Cor said. Ignis narrowed his eyes, and he sighed. “What do you like to do?”

“I like books,” Ignis said. He took a moment to finish off his egg. “I love books. Luna and I are reading one about a ghost in a cellar right now. Do you read much, Mr. Leonis?”

“Not… often,” Cor admitted. “So. You like books, and—”

“Luna,” Ignis said. “Luna is the best thing about Tenebrae.”

Cor ate in silence for a minute, staring into space again. He had a curious wrinkle between his brows, and his mouth was set in a hard line, but he didn’t seem angry. Ignis was halfway through the ham when he finally came back to earth.

“Right,” he said. “We can work with this.” He folded his hands behind his bowl and leveled a slow, solemn look at Ignis. “I have a question for you. Have you ever seen a library?”

 

\---

 

“I may die,” said the head librarian, leaning against the reception desk with a hand on her heart. She had heavy black dreadlocks studded with gold clasps, fantastic thick eyebrows, and a long black dress with flounces. Ignis opened his mouth in shock when Cor said nothing about the admission of her oncoming death, but the librarian seemed entirely nonplussed. She bent down to smile into Ignis’ face, plopping her hands on her knees.

“Look at you,” she said. “Just look at you. I could eat you up!”

Ignis turned to Cor. Surely he was listening. Instead, Cor leaned against the desk himself, flipping through a rack of cards. Around them, stacked floor to ceiling like the biggest shrine to Shiva at the manor, were hundreds and hundreds of books. There were more books than there were people in Insomnia, more books than stars, and if it weren’t for the librarian who apparently ate people, Ignis would have run off to a dark corner and read to his heart’s content.

As it was, he stood frozen in the head librarian’s gaze, trying desperately to appear brave. 

“My name is Lily Amicitia,” the librarian said. “You can call me Lily, dear. My son Gladiolus is around here somewhere—Gladiolus! Gladio, honey! My flower?” Her voice echoed off the marble columns, and Ignis heard a yelp and a crash of books.

“Mom!” called a voice from the second floor balcony. “Don’t call me _flower!”_

Lily shook her head. “He likes it,” she told Ignis. “Now, what’s your name?”

“People call me Ignis,” Ignis said. 

“He’s from the Tenebraean delegation,” Cor added, coming to his rescue at last. “He has a different schedule than the others, so he’ll be working with us. Might’ve heard about it in that memo this morning.”

Lily’s expression didn’t falter, but she did blink several times. “Oh, of course. Ignis. What a lovely name. Well, I have the perfect job for you. Can you read yet, honey?” Ignis nodded. “Wonderful. There’s a very important job that I need a smart, capable young man to—Cor if you touch my cards one more time, I _will_ make good on that late fee from two years back—to do for me. Do you think you’re up for it?”

“I can try.” On the balcony, a chubby, round-faced boy about Ignis’ age appeared with a stack of comic books in his arms. He frowned and leaned on the railing. 

“Very good.” Lily lowered her voice to a whisper. “Here's the horrible truth: No one wants to use the library anymore. They don’t know what books to read. Just look at them!” She raised a hand to the walls and walls of books. “What I need is for you to pick out a book, any book you like, and read it for me. When you’re done, let me know if you liked it and why, and I’ll put it on our recommendation table. It’ll be our little marketing project.”

“What?” the boy shouted down from the balcony. “Mo-om! You make _me_ do shelving!”

“And if you like, Gladiolus can teach you how we shelve books,” Lily said. “But not for longer than half an hour a day. Now, Gladiolus? Gladio? Babyheart, please come down and show Ignis where the children’s books are.”

Gladio grumbled darkly and set his books on a wooden cart with wheels, then wriggled between the railings of the balcony. He dropped down before Lily could shout in alarm, and tripped over to Ignis with a wide grin, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Hey,” he said. “You’re the kid who dropped Prince _I’m Stronger Than All Of You’s_ clothes all over the steps. Nice.”

“Gladio! We don’t make fun of the prince,” Lily snapped. 

“Why not?” Gladio said. “I make fun of Noct all the time. Come on, new kid,” he said. “Lemme show you the _good_ books.”

Ignis left the library that day with three books he was allowed to borrow for two weeks, all about adventurers and sorcerers from other worlds. Gladio liked many of the same kind of books Ignis liked, and Ignis had already promised to let him borrow the cellar ghost book if Gladio let Ignis read his book on the Rogue Queen. They left well before Ignis was supposed to come back for dinner, so Ignis walked with Gladio to his lessons, where Prince Noctis was waiting with a workbook propped up on his desk. He dropped it as soon as he saw Ignis come in.

“Hey!” He scrambled out of his chair. “Ignis, right? Hey, it’s Noct. We met on the stairs yesterday.”

“Yes,” Ignis said faintly. Noctis grabbed both his hands and towed him towards an empty desk.

“Are you here for lessons?” he asked. “We’re doing Science today.”

“Ugh,” Gladio threw himself into a chair. “This is gonna kill me.”

Ignis raised both eyebrows. “You _are_ like your mother,” he said. Gladio raised a hand at him and sank further in his seat, gone to the world. Noct rolled his eyes and handed Ignis a notebook. 

“Tell me you’re staying,” Noct said. “I suck at Science. Like, seriously suck.”

“I…” Ignis looked to Gladio, who was doing a passable impression of a boy whose soul was trying to escape to the library, and carefully placed his books on the desk. “I suppose I have time, if your tutor doesn’t mind.”

They always minded in Tenebrae. There, Ignis had to wait until Luna propped the door open with her foot, then he’d listen in from the hallway, straining to piece together half sentences into a fractured whole. Luna tried to catch him up to speed, after, but it got pretty confusing. He sat on the edge of his seat, smiling nervously as Noct chattered away, and jumped when the door opened. 

King Regis entered, his cloak trailing behind him, the silvery metal of his brace clicking as he walked. 

“Good morning, boys,” he said. “The doctor is out on sick leave, so you’ll be learning magic theory today.”

“Noooooo,” Gladio whispered, his head sinking below the edge of the desk.

“ _Dad,”_ Noct moaned.

Ignis clutched the sides of his desk so hard that his fingers squealed on the plastic. Noct turned his way, mouth open mid-protest, and Gladio wriggled upright. The king's eyes were kind, his smile a soft echo of Noct’s, but Ignis’ heart beat so hard in his chest that he felt like he was about to break apart piece by piece. 

In Tenebrae, the presence of the king always meant that it was Ignis’ time to run. He couldn’t risk being underfoot, not when the king had a nasty habit of turning his temper on _him,_ as though it were Ignis’ fault that there was dirt on a wine glass or troops on the borders. Sometimes, he didn’t even have a reason. Ignis had learned long ago to treat the crown with the same sort of fearful reverence people treated Shiva: Out of sight, and from a distance. 

Sure, this was a different king. Ignis knew that. But he also knew that kings and queens liked to talk to each other, and if news got to Tenebrae that Ignis had upset the king of Lucis…

“I can go,” he said, in a tight, small voice.

“Hey, wait,” Noct said. “It’s cool. I know he’s the king, but he’s kind of a total nerd in real life.”

King Regis looked down at his son through half-lowered lids. “Thank you, Noctis.” He knelt in front of Ignis’ desk, and Ignis wondered, awash in panic, if he should have knelt as well. “You’re Ignis, correct? Would you be interested in learning about magic?”

Ignis pried his hands loose from the desk and clenched them in his lap. Gods, he'd always dreamed of seeing the Lucian kings' magic for himself. He wanted it so much it burned, fiercer even than the fear that locked him in place. “Yes, sir.” 

The king scrunched his eyes up in the same way Noctis did when he smiled. “Good. Now, you and Noctis, push your desks up against Gladio’s, please.” He made a small gesture with his right hand, and Ignis gasped. A dome of light raced over them, encasing them in a perfect bubble that shone like planes of glass. “Today, boys, we will learn about the Wall.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Basil!”

Ignis trotted down the long tables in the dining hall, a hand pressed to his glasses to keep them from slipping down his nose, a stack of books under one arm. After two weeks at the Citadel, he’d learned to pass the Tenebraean table without a second thought, letting the sideways gazes of his countrymen slide off him as he made a beeline for the table reserved for the king’s personal attendants. There, he was met with wry, amused smiles and the occasional attempt to scruff his hair, and Basil Scientia with two trays and an empty seat at his side. 

“Good afternoon, Ignis,” Basil said, and Ignis clambered into his seat. Basil had his curls slicked back today, thick with gel and puffy at the front, and his uniform had brilliant gold lining at his jacket and cuffs. “What’s the headline news?”

Ignis grinned. Basil started inviting him to sit with him at dinner last week, and every day, he started things off by asking for a headline. Ignis adjusted his glasses and set his books down beside him. 

“Breaking,” he said. An attendant on the other side of the table smiled into her cup. “Prince Noctis Warps Into A Fountain. Brave Rescuer Gets Pushed In By Amicitia. More News At Eleven.”

Basil brushed aside Ignis’ bangs, which were still damp. “That must have been exciting.” 

“Oh, yes,” Ignis said. “I made sure to pull Gladio in with me, though.”

“Well, it’s only fair.”

Like always, it took them twice as long to finish dinner than any of the other attendants at the table. Basil had to hear about Ignis’ day, first, starting with what book he was reading (a new mystery about a girl detective), what he’d learned at lessons (the three times tables) and what he and Noctis and Gladio got up to (the fountain). Then Ignis had to know about Basil’s day, so he leaned into Basil’s side and picked at his dessert while Basil told him about the funny things the king said, how Mr. Clarus Amicitia almost dropped a sword on his foot, and how his chess partner was out with the flu. 

“And chess by yourself is never quite as fun,” Basil said. “I know all my opponent’s moves.”

“I can play with you,” Ignis said. He’d seen chess played in Tenebrae on a festival day, with people standing on big squares in the grass while two others directed them from atop a rickety step-ladder. 

“It might be boring,” Basil warned him, but Ignis didn’t mind. Nothing in Lucis was ever boring. Ignis jumped up and helped carry their trays to the cleaning station, then took Basil’s hand so they could climb up the stairs together. 

Basil’s apartment was roomy and dark, full of paintings of Tenebraean meadow flowers and lined with discs Basil said were records. He played one for Ignis, which had a bouncy sort of rhythm to it, and Ignis swung his feet at the small kitchen table while Basil set up the chess board. He also set up tea and genuine Tenebraean tea biscuits, even though they’d just eaten, and gave Ignis a generous helping of jam to dip them in. 

Chess was harder when Ignis had to play in person, but Basil was a patient teacher. He described the pieces as though they were fantastical troops on a battlefield, and Ignis focused hard, trying to pretend that the board was a field of grass and that his knight was a real one, with blond hair like Luna’s and a silver sword.

Ignis lost the first game, but he had a better idea of how things worked the second time around. The third time, Ignis could barely keep his eyes open, and jerked awake once to find Basil lifting him out of his chair. 

“Off to bed with you, tactician,” Basil said.

“S’posed to go to Ravus,” Ignis mumbled, and Basil shook his head.

“I’ll make my apologies,” he said. He carried Ignis in both arms, and Ignis twisted towards him to press his cheek to his shoulder. He smelled like the tea biscuits and detergent, and Ignis could feel his heartbeat thumping steady through his suit. Basil walked them both down the stairs to the residential wing, where he pushed Ignis’ bedroom door open with his shoulder and carried him inside. Ignis reached for him when Basil set him down, and Basil knelt, drawing the covers up. 

“Do you need a light on?” he asked. 

“Don’t go,” Ignis whispered. His eyes were open just enough to see Basil hesitate, a hand on Ignis’ shoulder. Then he sighed, twisting around so that his back was to the bed. 

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

Ignis rolled over, curling up in the blankets. 

“Ignis?”

“Mm.”

Basil’s hand was warm against his cheek, smoothing out his hair. “Do you like Lucis, so far?”

“Oh, yes,” Ignis said. The world was going dark, heavy with the sound of the radiator humming along. 

“Would you like to stay?”

But Ignis was already gone, drifting too far to understand, and Basil’s hand was warm in his hair, ushering him into quiet dreams.

 

\---

 

Afternoon chess games became a new ritual, but they didn’t happen every night. Some nights, Ignis had to run for Ravus’ rooms, where he spent the next few hours fetching water, cleaning his training gear, or simply standing still and letting Ravus complain about how Ignis was the orchestrator of all his misfortune. Prince Noctis wouldn’t even speak to Ravus, everyone walked on eggshells around him, no one said what they meant, and yet they treated Ignis like, like…

“Like a _darling,”_ Ravus said one night, throwing his hands in the air. “I can’t be near that brat of a prince for longer than half a minute without hearing about Ignis, Ignis, Ignis.”

“He isn’t a brat,” Ignis said. Ravus raised an eyebrow. “He’s nice. You shouldn’t say that.”

“He’s a brat if I say he is,” Ravus said. “Who’s your prince? Are you a son of Tenebrae or aren’t you?”

“I’m the son of a common soldier,” Ignis said, and Ravus’ face darkened. “You told me to remember. And Noctis… I wish he were my prince. He’s a better prince than you are, and he’s half your age.”

That, he realized later, was probably not the best thing to say. There was no way to hide the bruise on his jaw from Ravus’ glancing blow, which missed his cheek just enough to rattle his teeth. Ignis called in sick that morning, and the captain of the Tenebraean entourage had to come to his door after roll call. 

“I fell,” Ignis said, when the captain lifted his chin to examine the bruise. The captain generally avoided Ignis, like most did, but his brows were knit tight as he tilted Ignis’ face back and forth. 

“Did you,” he said. “And where did you fall?” When Ignis didn’t answer, he let go. “Boy. Where did you fall?”

“Prince Ravus’ rooms,” Ignis whispered. The captain looked, if anything, more grim than before.

“You can stay in today,” he said. “Excuse me.”

When he left, Ignis sat against the wall, flipping through the latest book that Mrs. Amicitia had recommended to him. He was only two pages in when there was a knock on the door. It opened before he could say anything, and Basil marched in, his usually calm, smiling face a stormcloud of fury. 

“Where did he strike you?” he asked. Ignis dropped the book, and Basil gathered him into his arms. Bewildered, Ignis hugged him back. Basil’s heart was beating terribly fast, and when he saw the bruise, he let out a sharp hiss of breath. 

“That entitled, self-serving, unfeeling son of a—“

“Basil, that’s enough.” A young woman stood at the doorway, her grey-brown hair tied up in a bun. She smiled at Ignis from over Basil’s shoulder. “Ignis, honey, we’ll need to ask you a few questions.”

None of the questions made sense, really. He tried to explain that Ravus hadn’t meant it, and besides, Ignis probably deserved it this time. Then he had to explain what _this time_ meant, which led to him having to explain the kind of tasks Ravus assigned to Ignis after dinner, which led to Basil having to step outside for a minute while the woman called Ignis _very brave_ and asked him if he wanted to talk to someone. 

“But we’re talking already,” Ignis said. 

Basil came back in with red-rimmed eyes and a quavering voice, and asked Ignis if he would like to stay with him “until this blows over.” Ignis wasn’t sure what was blowing over, or why everyone was so upset now when no one ever seemed to care before, but he agreed anyways, and helped Basil pack up his bag. The woman with the bun made a note of that, too, frowning at the size of Ignis’ travel bag, but thankfully didn’t ask any more questions.

Gladio filled Ignis in the next day, as Lily cooed over Ignis’ face and hugged him for a good three minutes. Prince Ravus was in _disgrace,_ confined to his rooms while King Regis sent the king and queen of Tenebrae a message. The whole delegation was in chaos, and the captain was up in front of Cor Leonis all morning, having a furious shouting match.

“You weren’t supposed to be listening in,” Lily said, letting Ignis go at last. 

“If I’m gonna be Shield after Dad, I gotta know what’s going on,” Gladio said. “Just wait until that Ravus kid is allowed out. I’m gonna kick his ass so hard he won’t be able to—“

“No,” Lily said. “You won’t.”

Gladio deflated. “He’ll know I want to, anyways.” 

Noct, thankfully, was the only one who didn’t say anything about it. He just scooted his chair next to Ignis’ and handed him a juice box. 

“It’s grape,” he said, “but it’s magic, too, so it’ll make you feel better.”

Ignis took a sip. There was an odd, tingling feeling in his cheek, and he raised his hand to tenderly press down on the bruise. It barely hurt at all, and when he ran to the mirror at the end of the schoolroom, his bruise was fading from purple to a grayish yellow. 

“Told you,” Noct said. “Magic.”

When the lesson was done, Noct waved Gladio off, then took Ignis’ hand and towed him towards an elevator. “I got a surprise for you,” he said. They stepped inside the elevator, and Noct pressed the button all the way at the top, on the highest floor of the Citadel. When Ignis gave him a curious look, Noct just bounced on his heels. 

“You’re gonna like it,” he said. “I promise.”

They read to each other from Ignis’ new book on the way up, Noct stumbling through some of the harder words while Ignis kept forgetting to do the voices, and they were so caught up in it that the elevator doors started to close before they saw they were on the top floor. Noct yelped and dragged Ignis through, leading them into a small hallway with a set of double doors at the end. 

“Plan,” Ignis read, squinting at the label on the door. “Planet. Planetar.”

“It’s a planetarium!” Noct cried. “The smog’s too thick to go out and look right now, so Dad made this. Or he made other people make it. But he wanted them to. Come on!” He pushed open the doors, and Ignis gaped.

They were in a huge, circular room lined with big squashy chairs, with a giant blue dome overhead. The dome looked like a night sky, with little twinkling stars in the distance, and Ignis kept tripping over his feet as Noctis led him to a pair of chairs with a heavy quilt draped over it. There were snacks, too, and a crate of milk chocolate cartons, and Ignis had to climb over all of it to sit in his chair. 

Noctis snuggled up to him, pulling the quilt over them both. “Do you like it?” he asked. 

“It’s… I didn’t know people did this,” Ignis said. Who thought to put stars indoors?

“Wait,” Noct said. After a minute of wide-eyed staring, Ignis gasped as white lines began to travel from star to star, making out shapes against the dome. 

“Long ago,” said a woman’s voice, booming over the speakers throughout the empty dome, “ancient explorers used the stars to navigate the globe. Today, we will use the stars to navigate the cosmos.”

Ignis took Noct’s hand as the stars gave way to a spiraling blue and purple galaxy.

“You’re the best friend anyone could ever have in the whole world,” Ignis whispered. Noct lay his head on his shoulder and smirked.

“Yeah,” Noct said, as the narrator took them through the heart of a nebula. “I’m good like that.”


	5. Chapter 5

"Breaking News!" Ignis cried, bursting into the apartment in a rush of purple and black, his puffy winter coat unbuttoned and flapping. Basil, sitting on the couch with a newspaper in his hands, waited patiently while Ignis tried to wrench off his gloves. "Mrs. Amicitia had a _baby!"_

"Oh, yes," Basil said. "The staff sent round a gift basket last week."

"She was the ugliest baby I've ever seen," Ignis said, lining up his shoes next to Basil's. He caught Basil's disapproving look and said, "In a cute way."

"All babies look ugly and wrinkled at first," Basil said. "What did they name her?"

"Iris! Gladio cried." Gladio cried a lot, actually. Ignis and Noct had to hug him all afternoon just because Iris opened her eyes and looked at him once, and he threatened to start up all over again when she whimpered in her sleep. 

"Good tears, I hope."

"I think so." Ignis hung his coat up on the rack, which Basil had lowered so he could reach, and put on his house slippers. "He says he feels like he was always supposed to be a big brother." He climbed onto the couch and pulled out his latest book assignment, which was called Physics For Beginners and had a tendency of making him feel like he'd opened up the top of his head and let someone else rummage around. 

"Do you have siblings?" he asked Basil. Basil shrugged.

"I was an only child," he said. "My mother was too busy with me to consider having another."

Ignis ran his hand over the book. Something pushed at the back of his mind, just like it did when he read about black holes and gravity, like he was reaching for the edge of a handhold on a cliff. 

"Do you think." He stopped, his tongue heavy, fingers fiddling with the corner of the page. Basil's newspaper crinkled. "Someone said that. That when I was born, my mom and dad didn't want me. Do you think I was just... too small? Like Iris? And maybe they'd, I don't know, maybe they'd want me later?"

Basil folded his newspaper. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned over his knees, propping himself up on an elbow.

"They would have to be monsters," Basil said, "to take one look at you and not love you."

Ignis took a breath. It came out shaky and thin, and Basil scooped him up with an arm, tipping him sideways. He let out an indignant shriek, and ducked out of the way as Basil tried to muss his hair, over and over, until Ignis was laughing and kicking the edge of the couch.

They had hot chocolate that night as a treat to celebrate Iris' birthday, and Ignis went to bed in a room where the ceiling glowed with small lights in the shape of constellations, which Basil had carefully pinned up a few weeks before. He hugged his cactuar plush close, wriggled in the comfort of his quilt, and let the sounds of Basil rattling about the apartment send him to sleep.

Ravus still hadn't apologized. The queen had petitioned to let him stay, and King Regis had apparently had a private audience with Ravus that left the prince in a furious, gloomy mood for days. Whenever the two of them passed each other, Ravus pretended Ignis wasn't there, which was just fine in Ignis' opinion. Noct, in his way, took a small revenge in pretending Ravus wasn't there, either.

It didn't help that after the incident, Luna's letters arrived at the Citadel addressed to Ignis alone. He had a whole drawer full of them, bursting with pressed flowers and questions about his new life, as well as a few pieces of gossip from home.

_A piece of the cliff broke off near the waterfall,_ Luna wrote once. _There was a family of chocobos hiding on the other side. Can you imagine? Chocobos in Tenebrae!_

One thing kept popping up in her letters, like a chorus in one of the bouncy rock albums Basil liked to play. _Mother is quiet._ Ignis couldn't interpret what she meant by that, but it clearly troubled her. He wasn't sure how to comfort her, though. The queen was always quiet, wasn't she?

"Dad gets like that sometimes," Noct told him one afternoon, while they sat on a park bench and threw grapes at the ducks. Ignis ate every other grape, and the ducks surrounded them like the Council in the Lucian throne room, eager and honking softly.

"Things can get really busy," Noct said. He tossed a grape into the water, causing a round of excitable quacking. "Dad's all by himself without Mom, so he has a lot to think about. Sometimes he won't talk at all for days. He just lies down and sighs."

Ignis rolled a grape in his palm. "Kings shouldn't have to be alone," he said. "Not like that."

"Kings of Lucis do," Noct said, with a sullen, bitter edge to his voice. "All of us."

"Not you," Ignis said. He leaned forward, pulled by a force that wrapped itself around his heart and made even the cool air itself burn bright and hot. "I won't let you. I'll go to college and become a Master at everything, and then I'll come back and help you out so you can have fun."

"But I thought you wanted to be an explorer," Noct said. "Or a star guy."

"Astrophysicist," Ignis said, savoring the word. "I can be both. Why not?"

Noct's eyes widened, and he smiled. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, you'll be like one of the old wizards, from before Lucis got civilized. The companions of the king."

"Yeah!" Ignis said. 

"Yeah!" Noct shouted, and hugged him, upending the bag of grapes. The ducks lurched onto the grass in a flurry of feathers and snapping beaks, and the boys had to climb over the back of the bench to avoid getting pecked by an overenthusiastic bill.

"I have an idea," Noct said, dragging Ignis into the shade of a willow tree. "You know how Dad can share magic with his advisors?"

"Sort of," Ignis said. It wasn't so much sharing as it was passing on the magic of the crystal through the king, like electricity through a battery, but Noct's eyes always glazed over when Ignis or the king started going into it.

"Well, Dad taught me how to do it," Noct said. "I mean, I'm not supposed to until I'm ready, but we're ready, if you want to. We can make it like, a pact. A promise."

"Of course," Ignis said. 

"Great! Ok, here goes," Noct said. "So I need you to take my hands."

Ignis was shaking. He could see himself already, tall and full-grown and dressed in black robes, with fire at his fingertips and Noctis at his side. He took Noct's hands and gripped them tight.

"Okay," Noct said. "So all I have to do is--"

Ignis opened his eyes. 

There was something wrong with the sun. It was cold and white and square, and there was something pebbled over its surface, like ripples on the water in Altissia. Ignis squinted, and the sun faded into a simple overhead light, framed by plain grey ceiling panels.

"Ignis?" That was Basil. What was Basil doing in the park? Why did the park have a ceiling? Ignis swallowed and winced: His mouth tasted foul, and his tongue was fuzzy, like he hadn't brushed his teeth. He tried to sit up, and a hand went to his back, gently helping him rest against a pile of... pillows?

"Ignis," Basil said, and Ignis blinked at him. Basil's brown skin was ashen, with purple bags under his eyes, and his hair looked like he hadn't used any product in it in a while. Ignis immediately tried to stand in alarm, and jerked when a wire attached to the crook of his arm held him back.

"Basil?" Ignis asked. "What's wrong? Are you ill? How did we--Noct and I--"

"Yes," said another, deeper voice from Ignis' side. "What _were_ you and Noctis doing?"

Ignis looked to his left, where King Regis was sitting next to a blue and white cot, looking almost as harried as Basil. Noctis sat in the cot, sheepishly picking around the vegetables on a plastic tray, and gave Ignis an apologetic smile.

"We were..." Ignis strained to remember. "We were trying to make a promise."

"Ah," King Regis said. "Ignis. Son. Can you do something for me?"

"I can try, your majesty."

"There should be a tickling in your palms," King Regis said. "The way it feels when your hand falls asleep, but deep inside. Can you sense it?"

Ignis thought about it. There was... something, more like a buzzing, warm and not entirely unpleasant, under the skin. He nodded. 

"Good. Now, I want you to close your eyes. It's imperative--imperative means gravely important--that you do not open them until I say. Close them now."

Ignis scrunched his eyes shut as tight as he could.

"Imagine pushing that tickling feeling up to your fingers," King Regis said. "Good. Good, now hold it there."

"Uh oh," Noct whispered.

"Good gods," said Basil. 

"Close your hand, son," King Regis said, "and open your eyes."

Ignis obeyed. His hand looked perfectly ordinary, and the buzzing was back in his palm, barely noticeable unless Ignis concentrated. King Regis raised an eyebrow at his son, who sank into his pillows.

"Congratulations, Noctis," the king said. "You've created a Glaive."

 

\---

 

Both Ignis and Noctis, the king said, in a quiet voice that showed exactly how furious he truly was, were in utter disgrace. They were not allowed to play together without supervision, Noctis was banned from comic books and video games for three months, and they both had to write an essay on a book called "Lost At Sea: The Misuse Of Magic In The Fiftieth Century." Ignis also had to start magic lessons with the king as soon as he recovered, which scared him much more than the essay. He was still far too anxious around King Regis, and feared he'd finally tipped him over the breaking point.

The biggest surprise came the next day, however, when Noct and Ignis were interrupted from the thought of the acute misery to come by a nurse at the door.

"You can always say no," the nurse said, and Ignis and Noctis glanced at each other. "But his highness has claimed family rights."

"His highness?" Noct asked.

"Ravus?" Ignis said.

They both sat up as the door opened. Ravus had his hair pinned up in a ponytail, and his hands twisted the cloth of his coat as he stepped forward. Noctis leveled a scathing glare his way, but he looked to Ignis instead, his mouth working strangely.

"I heard you were." Ravus cleared his throat. "Unwell."

"I'm doing better, your highness," Ignis said. "Thank you."

"I knew Luna would worry," Ravus said, in a breathless rush. "She does care about you. Of course, she doesn't answer my letters, but I thought if I addressed it from you, perhaps she would--did you truly commune with the prince's magic?"

"That's what his majesty says, your highness," Ignis said. He clenched his hands under the sheets. What could Ravus do with Noct there and a nurse at the door? All the same, he wished Basil were with him to hold his hand.

Ravus' breath caught. "You. You actually. You could have died," he said. 

A seed of bitterness bloomed in Ignis' throat, like the sting of pepper. "And?" he said. "I'm no one." 

"Don't say that," Noct said. "You're my best friend."

Ravus hesitated. He rocked on his heels, and when Ignis flinched despite himself, Ravus' face fell. He looked almost as young as Ignis, then, and for a moment, Ignis thought he could see a softness there, a lost boy who couldn't figure out how to react.

"Take better care of yourself," Ravus said, and, before Ignis could think of a thing to say, went staggering out of the room.

"Yikes," Noct said, when the door shut after him. "He's got problems."

"Yeah," Ignis said, and rubbed at his palm, testing the hum of magic in his hands. "I wonder what they are."

 

\---

 

Magic lessons were a disaster. The king tried, truly tried to teach him, but every time Ignis was told to throw fire or freeze the ground beneath the king's feet, he went stiff with terror and couldn't move an inch. In the end, one of the king's Glaives had to step in, a young man with braided hair and the tattoos of a man of Galahd.

"It's easy," he said, bringing fire to his hand while Ignis struggled to warm his fingers. "When you get the hang of it, it'll be like learning how to swim. You'll never forget."

Ignis wasn't so sure about that. He did learn how to dip into Noctis' armiger, a magical space where he and Noct could pass contraband comic books back and forth, but with anything other than fire, Ignis was a disaster. He was also banned from practicing in Basil's apartment, on account of some of the mistakes Noctis made when he was first starting out.

Out of all of the things to come out of his and Noct's pact, however, there was one thing that Ignis could have never suspected.

It happened in early spring, when Ignis and Noctis were no longer officially in disgrace. Ignis was sitting at lunch with Basil, reading the newspaper over his shoulder, when a page ran in from the main hall. Heads turned through the dining room as she trotted over to Basil, her hat sliding down her black hair. She bowed, and it fluttered to the floor.

"His majesty requests your presence," she said, and looked up at Ignis. "Both of you."

Basil held Ignis' hand as they walked down the corridors to the throne room, swinging it a little as they went. 

"You don't think I'm in trouble again?" Ignis asked.

"Should you be?" asked Basil, with a sideways grin.

"Not that I know." Ignis pushed his shoulder up against Basil's side, and Basil let go of his hand to wrap an arm around his shoulders. They were still walking that way when they entered the throne room, where the king, Noctis, Gladio, half the Council, and Ravus were waiting. Before them, on the dais, stood--

"Ignis!" 

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret raced down the steps of the dais, her skirts fluttering about her legs like the wings of a bird. She'd grown since Ignis last saw her, shooting up like a skinny weed, and her hair was cut short to her shoulders. Ignis stumbled forward, and Luna collided with him hard enough to send them reeling into a pillar.

"Oh, Ignis!" she cried. "I'm so glad to see you. Let me look at you." She pulled away. "Oh, I missed you." She laid a hand on his cheek.

"I missed you, too," Ignis said, in a very small voice. "Why... How did you..."

"Mother sent me," Luna said. "Ravus is due to come back anyways, but she sent me specifically. Ignis, you won't believe--If I'd known! It's fantastic!"

"What is?" Ignis asked. A few feet away, Ravus was craning his neck, trying to listen in. Luna beamed.

"It's Mother," Luna said. "She wants to make things right, Ignis. She wants to bring you _home."_


	6. Chapter 6

Ignis lay his hand on a thin blue coverlet, tracing the faint pattern of sylleblossoms on the cloth. The bed beneath it was simple, and smelled of a soap he didn’t recognize, with a sachet of jasmine tucked behind the pillow. Beside him, a glass window looked out on the wilds of Tenebrae. 

He’d forgotten how cold it could be, hidden away in the shadow of the mountains. 

“Do you like it?” his mother asked. 

Ignis looked up at the dark, unadorned ceiling, and remembered the time Basil pricked his thumb pinning up the lights over his bed in Insomnia. How he’d cursed, and had to apologize three times before Ignis could stop gasping in outrage. 

Ignis’ hand clenched on the sheets.

“Yes, your majesty.”

 

\---

 

“No.”

Basil Scientia stood before the king of Lucis, a dark flush in his cheeks, back to the scandalized nobles and Council members scattered throughout in the throne room. His hand was heavy on Ignis’ shoulder, and Ignis squirmed, hands caught in Luna’s, trying to find Basil’s familiar voice in the harsh, biting way in which he spoke. 

“Your majesty, you cannot in good conscience allow him to be delivered into that pack of wolves.”

“Mr. Scientia,” King Regis said, in a distant tone. “Now is not the time—“

“The time was seven years ago,” Basil said. No, shouted, _shouted,_ the words echoing off the ceiling, bouncing back to Ignis like the disordered babble of a crowd speaking all at once. “They had their chance. You cannot expect them to turn back nearly a decade of neglect in the course of a few months. I will not—He can not—”

“Your opinion has been noted,” the king said. “You know full well the complications that we face in this.” Ignis tugged at Basil’s arm. He was going to get in trouble, he probably already was, and the last thing Ignis wanted was for King Regis’ kind eyes to go cold and hard, the threat of a summer storm in the corner of a clear sky.

“Thirty-six years I’ve served you faithfully,” Basil said. “But I’ll be damned if you let this child go walking into the hands of his tormentors.”

 

\---

 

“Lunafreya says you wish to be a scientist,” his mother said. Ignis didn’t look at her, but he could see the gleam of her jewels shining off the walls, casting spots of light that shifted as she moved. 

“An astrophysicist,” Ignis said. 

“My, that’s a long word.”

“Not really.” Ignis pulled out the cactuar plush Basil bought him that winter and held it close. It still smelled like the apartment, of the cinnamon candles Basil liked to burn on the windowsills and the flour he used in their baking experiments. He set it down on his new pillow and tucked it in.

“But I’ll be Noct’s advisor first,” he said, and the lights on the wall quivered. “I made a promise.”

 

\---

 

“Just hold out your hand and whisper _box,”_ Noct said into Ignis’ shoulder, his arms wrapped tight around his neck. Luna stood behind Ignis at the train station, wearing a rainbow scarf given to her by Ravus, and Basil was a shadow at Ignis’ side, his face drawn in a smile that didn’t seem true. Noct closed his eyes, and Ignis felt eyelashes flutter on his cheek.

“Luna and I agreed to write,” Noct said, “but I know Gladio an’ Basil are gonna want to send you stuff, and the armiger’s the best way to do it.”

Ignis nodded. He felt empty of tears, dried out and hollow after a night of sobbing on the couch of the apartment he’d come to know as home, unable to pry himself from Basil’s side. “I’ll come back, anyways,” he said. “I promised, and… and I think Basil’s petitioning the queen, so.”

“Don’t forget,” Noct whispered. 

Ignis hugged him tight, and it wasn’t until the train whistle cut through the crowd, searing a line through the chaos of the station, that he dared to pull away.

 

\---

 

_Breaking News,_ Ignis wrote, hunched over his pen on the small desk allotted to him from the manor storage closets. _I have a mother._

Luna had let it slip on the train. Ignis didn’t even know he was moving before she caught him heading for the doors, as though he could fling himself out into the open grasses and find himself back in Basil’s rooms, where everything made sense and no one said anything that twisted his stomach up in knots. 

All those nights, Ignis had lit the Queen’s bedside lamp, and she’d said nothing.

All those nights, and she’d only stared.

"They would have to be monsters," Basil had said, "to take one look at you and not love you."

Did she? Was that why she wanted him there, in Tenebrae, where the servants offered him hesitant smiles or blank looks, caught between the fear of being found out and an awkward, haphazard attempt at a kindness? Then why did she never hug him, like Basil had, or smile with her eyes, or call him by name?

Even if it wasn’t a real name, Ignis was as close as he would get.

He folded the letter quickly, and jumped at the sharp rapping of a knuckle at his door.

“H-hello?”

“The king has requested an audience,” said a woman’s voice, and Ignis got up to open the door a fraction. The woman was a soldier, one of the few who patrolled the grounds, with her hair short-cropped to her ears and a grim, unchanging expression. As the army was the only part of the country that the king was allowed to control, she wore his sigil, a gold lion rearing on its hind legs. Ignis thought he preferred the unicorn of Tenebrae, personally, but decided against saying so out loud. He walked at the soldier’s heels down the hall, and tried to pretend that he was in the grey and black marble corridors of the Citadel.

“Did you know,” he said, staring up at the soldier’s back, “that there was an old queen of Lucis who was so afraid of everyone that she put up mirrors in all the stairs?”

The soldier didn’t answer. Ignis stuck his hands in his pockets, seeking warmth there, and kept his head bowed.

The king waited for him in the practice yards behind the manor. He had on a beautiful white and silver jacket with gold buttons, his hair was long and white-blond, and he scowled at Ignis like he’d just spotted a speck of rust on the hilt of his sword. Ignis stopped in the center of the practice circle where the king stood, and bowed just in case. 

“Your majesty,” he said. 

“I hear that you humiliated my son,” said the king. “With an unwarranted accusation.”

Fear washed over Ignis in an icy torrent. He remained in his bow, gaze fixed on the king’s polished black shoes, and strained to keep from shaking. The king didn’t move, however: He just stood there, dust swirling around his boots, the perfect cut of his trousers leaving just enough room to show off his gold buckles. 

“That alone deserves a punishment that I am not, I have been informed, allowed to enact,” the king said. His voice was thick with disdain. “If there were justice in this world, you would go the way of your father, taking the shame of your birth with you. But I have been informed that you have recently acquired the power of the Lucian kings.”

Ignis bit his lip. He had a whole book of exercises and meditations he was supposed to practice, courtesy of King Regis, but he hadn’t been able to look at them since he’d come to Tenebrae. 

“Well?” the king barked. Ignis’ breath came short. “Have you?”

“I… yes, your majesty,” Ignis said. 

“Good,” the king said. “We could use a Glaive in the army. You’re young, but the cook says you’re resilient, so training will begin—“

“I’m sorry, your majesty,” Ignis said. “I can’t.”

There was a long, terrible silence, and Ignis straightened, looking the king in the eye for the first time in his life. 

“I’m not your Glaive,” he said. “I’m the Glaive of Noctis Lucis Caelum, the prince of Lucis, and I’ll never be another’s. Not even for you, your majesty.”

It was not, he knew, the wisest thing to say. He finished his letter to Basil with an aching jaw and eyes that swam with tears, and kept his door shut even when Luna came by to ask why her father was storming around the manor like a behemoth in a trap, terrifying the servants and knocking over vases. Then he summoned the box from Noctis, which held a letter for Luna, a postcard for Ignis, and a bag of gummi cats inside, and swapped them out for his own letter before banishing it into the armiger. 

Then he sat in the middle of his new bed and focused on the tickling buzz in his skin, letting it build and build until he held a handful of fire, licking at his fingers with a heat that didn’t burn, casting wide shadows over the plain, unfamiliar walls.


	7. Chapter 7

“Did you hear?” The new kitchen assistant, Miriam, came in through the back door with a blast of cold air. The cooks and kitchen hands shouted all at once— _Close the godsdamned door, Miri!—_ and she scrunched up her nose, unwrapping what had to be yards of thick yellow wool around her neck. Her eyes glittered bright as the pots being ferried throughout the room, and she tied back her thick hair. 

“There’s a ghost in the wilds,” she said. The head chef, Selda, rolled her eyes. 

“And that’s why you’ve been late the past week, is it?”

“Don’t use that tone on me,” Miriam said, hustling to the sink. A tall, gangly teenager about her age stood there, washing out one of the big dish trays. “Move, please. You talk like that, Selda, and I’ll tell my mam to tell _your_ mam that you’ve been upsetting me, me with my nerves the way they are.”

“And my mam will tell yours that you’re a no-good telltale,” Selda said. “A ghost, really.”

The teen next to Miriam flashed her a brief smile, and she looked him up and down. He was pretty enough—for a boy, anyway—with sandy hair and full lips, even if he did have braces. With half the staff being distant cousins or children of her mother’s ever growing circle of friends, Miriam supposed she could take what she could get. 

“Maybe _you’ve_ heard of it,” she told him, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “They say the ghost shows up like a ball of lightning sometimes, or fire, or you can see patches of ice near the cliffs where they’ve been.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t seen anything like a ghost,” the boy said. His tone was civil, but bland, the same way Miriam’s was when she had to talk to someone she didn’t know. _Damn._

“Ignis would know,” Selda said. “He’s always out in the wilds when he shouldn’t be.”

“Avoiding his majesty,” someone else said, but they were shushed into silence. Ignis smiled again, but there was something sad to it this time, a twist to his lips that Miriam couldn’t quite interpret. He set the tray in the drying rack and turned to Selda. 

“Thank you for letting me use the kitchen,” he said. “How long do I have?”

“He’s in a meeting ‘til four,” Selda said. “Her highness should be finishing lessons soon, if the lunch schedule is anything to go by.”

“Much appreciated,” Ignis said, with a small, clerky little bow. When he straightened, his smile had widened into a grin, making him look more like the boy he was. “Then I have time.”

“Don’t forget to change your boots!” Selda shouted, but Ignis was already gone, opening the hated door into the windswept wilds beyond the manor. Miriam raced to a window to watch him go, striding off through the high grasses, his brown jacket whipping about him like a cloak. 

“The hell is he?” Miriam asked. 

“The Queen’s bastard,” Selda said, turning on the baking oven. “Poor kid’s got another year with us at most. When he’s seventeen, he can be conscripted into the army, then the king can finally get his hands on him.” She looked to the window, where Ignis was nothing more than a small blur disappearing into the countryside. “It’s only a matter of time.”

 

\---

 

Ignis came back from the fields behind the manor a few minutes before four, trailing clover blossoms and the sharp scent of magic. The notes Noctis passed to him from his own magic lessons were scattered at best, and it had taken Ignis over a month to master the last one: Building a wall of power, thick as a shield, which could be used to deflect a blow in a pinch. It wasn’t very effective, as it used the caster’s own energy to manifest, but Ignis felt he had a firm grasp of the basics. 

He left his boots by the door and slipped into his old ones, which were hidden behind an unused pot. The kitchen was empty since it was used mainly for breakfast, and Ignis lifted a handful of grapes on his way out. The queen continued to offer him an open invitation of dining with the family, of course, but Ignis had learned long ago that the less time he spent under the disapproving eye of the king, the better. 

Just a few more months, and Ignis would be old enough to leave. Basil still wrote him, still petitioned the queen every year without fail, but Ignis knew that she wasn’t going to concede. Ignis was hers, even though she never understood what she wanted to do with him, and so Ignis truly was a ghost, drifting between the queen’s half-formed yearning and the king’s simmering fury. 

Just a few more months. Then he could hitch a ride to the train station, where he’d book a trip to Accordo. There, he’d find work on a ferry between Altissia and Lucis, and he’d hike the rest of the way to Insomnia, using the stars as a guide. And at the end of it all, there’d be Basil, and Noctis, and…

Well. Ignis rolled his shoulders. There was a letter under his bed, one of hundreds, in Noct’s neat, wide handwriting, with the words neither of them had found the courage to say until now. Words that Ignis was still mulling over, still trying to piece together in his own mind. Words he hadn’t even shared with Luna.

Who was waiting for him outside the servant’s hall to the residential part of the manor, hands twisted together, blue eyes tight with worry.

“Ignis,” she said. “Ravus is with Father.”

Ignis raised his eyebrows. _Ravus is with Father_ meant that Ravus was keeping the king distracted for Luna’s sake, which meant in turn that the king was probably not the best company at the moment. Only Ravus could soothe him in one of his darker moods, and even that was a near thing. 

Luna, however, looked about as furious as the king at his worst. Ignis took her by the arm and led her into the safety of an alcove, where she grabbed him by his frayed jacket lapels and lowered her head to his shoulder.

“Oh, Ignis,” she said. “I won’t bear this. You know I won’t.”

“I’m sure of it,” Ignis said. “Whatever this is.” At twenty, Luna was still smaller than him, just enough for Ignis to rest his chin on the top of her head. She let out a gusty laugh. 

“It’s worse than you think,” she said. “You know Noctis is sixteen this year.”

Ignis waited for her to continue.

“Well, I’m twenty. I’m already full grown, you know this, and I told Father and Mother that I’m perfectly fine where I am, thank you, but they think that just because we’ve been writing—well, you and Noctis have been writing as well, haven’t you?”

Ignis tried to grasp one of Luna’s stray, tangled strands of thought. “Yes, we have.”

“And you aren’t madly in love, are you?” Luna asked. 

Ignis thought of the letter under his bed. “Ah. I—“

“Of course you aren’t!” Luna said. “Because he’s—I mean to say—I’m sure I can, but Ignis, I’m—They can not expect me to marry someone just because they want me out of the way!”

Ignis felt as though he’d accidentally ingested an ice spell, the skin of his hands and neck prickling with a sudden chill. “Luna,” he said. “I may need an explanation.”

“It’s Noctis,” Luna said, pulling out of Ignis’ embrace. “Mother and King Regis have been talking, and they’re… they’re going to announce our engagement next month. On Noctis’ sixteenth birthday.”

Ignis leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair. It was soft, damp with the mist that rolled from the waterfall near the border of the manor grounds, where just that morning Ignis had summoned a barrier under his own power. His fingers were calloused, and caught at his cheek as he let his hand slide down the side of his face.

"I told Mother just last year that I'll never marry," Luna was saying, overcome by righteous indignation. "Long engagement or no, I am a full-grown woman and have made my choice. Did Princess Fionne ever marry? Or Queen Stella?"

"I don't believe so," Ignis said. His voice seemed to come from a long ways off.

_I wanted to wait until you got home,_ Noct had written, in a letter tucked into their shared box with a purple and black sweater from Basil. _But I think I need to say it now._

"They think that by getting King Regis to agree, and to hold this ridiculous _ball,_ they can shame me into agreeing. I've seen what arranged marriages can do, and I'm not letting that get between me and Noctis."

Ignis stared over her shoulder.

_You know the first Glaives?_ Noct wrote. _The ones they called the companions? The reason we did that whole thing with our magic in the first place?_

Luna asked him a question, brows furrowed. Ignis nodded.

_Turns out they used to only share magic if they were with the king or queen. Like, with them. You probably already know. You probably read about it when we were like, twelve._

_But I want that. What they had. I think we might have it already._

"Ignis." Luna's hand was on his cheek, soft and warm. "You're miles away. In Lucis?"

Ignis took an unsteady breath, and Luna's expression softened, understanding in her eyes. "Oh."

For the second time that afternoon, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Ignis held her until his breath stopped hitching, but the uneasy, tilted feeling in the pit of his stomach refused to budge. 

"I'll fix this," Luna said. Ignis sighed--Of course Luna would put her royal voice on as soon as someone else was in distress--and closed his eyes. "We can go to the ball together, and you can speak to Noctis while I petition the king. Don't worry. You're my brother, and I'll look after you."

 

\---

 

"Prepare yourself," Ravus said that night. He leaned over and took Ignis' rook off the worn chess board propped up on his bed. It was a gift from Basil on Ignis' twelfth birthday, excitedly offered during a time when false hopes seemed possible and the walls of Lucis felt close enough to touch. Ignis sighed and took Ravus' queen.

They hadn't meant to start this; their strange, mostly silent chess matches. It began when Ignis was thirteen, trying to play alone in the empty kitchen while the royal family ate in the other room. Ravus had slipped in to ask what was taking the staff so long with the marzipan, to find Ignis waging war with himself, trying to imagine what moves Basil would make.

Then, to both of their surprise, Ravus sat down.

"Luna can be as pig-headed as Father, sometimes," Ravus said, backing his king into a corner. "But she won't win this one. They can't allow you to disrupt the ball."

"I know." Ignis moved his knight in the path of Ravus' bishop, and Ravus scowled. "I doubt they'd let me go."

"Foolish, really," Ravus said. His hair was longer, now, pinned back in a neat ponytail, and he swept loose strands from his eyes as he pointedly ignored Ignis' knight. "What harm can you do, coming to a ball? Do they think Prince Noctis will take one look at you and go, _Ignis, at last! Blast my royal obligations!"_ His frown deepened. "He would, wouldn't he?"

"Probably," Ignis said.

"Damn."

Ignis lazily moved his second bishop into position. "Checkmate, by the way."

"Oh, to hell with you," Ravus said, and knocked his own king off the board. "Fine. Best three out of five."

 

\---

 

In the end, Ravus was right. Ignis stood at the window of the manor foyer as Luna, Ravus, and the king and queen filed into their cars to head for the station. Luna had been cagey and elated by degrees as the weeks led on, assuring Ignis that she had it all planned out, not to worry, and putting on a bland, decidedly chilly manner with her mother and father. Ignis wasn't so sure that Luna could do anything. It seemed, sometimes, that the only thing he had control over was his own magic, brimming under his skin like a nest of hornets as the day of the engagement party drew near.

He watched the last car pull away, then slowly walked back to the kitchens. Some of the staff were there, chatting and cleaning up from that afternoon's early tea, and they tracked him out of the corners of their eyes as he made his way to the massive fireplace at the far end of the largest kitchen. He sat, never minding the soot that smeared his trousers, and drew his knees up to his chest.

He hadn't checked the box from Noctis in weeks. Not since he's heard news of the engagement. He couldn't bring himself to summon it, even when the anticipation ate at him well into the night, pushing him into restless dreams.

Fire licked the bricks at the back of the fireplace, soft and light as a lover's caress.

Years ago, Ignis had dreamt of stars. Of exploring the far reaches of Eos, of spending his nights out in the desert with the scientists who operated the country's greatest telescopes. Of taking it all back to Noctis, who would be beautiful and clever and kind, the sort of king Regis tried to be and Luna and Ravus' father could barely touch. A king worth serving. And at the end of the day, Ignis would sign his name on his official forms of office as Scientia.

A shadow passed over him, hovering for a breathless moment before moving on. The fire dimmed to embers, throwing up sparks as logs broke and fell into the ash.

He'd dreamt of so many things, once.

His skin prickled with a creeping chill as the last of the embers faded into the dark. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and wondered what would happen to him with Luna gone, his last sure defense against the wrath of the king. Ravus would not be enough. The queen could only hold him in her favor for so long. With Niflheim at their borders, it would raise no eyebrows for the king to conscript a young, talented war mage for the front. 

There was a creak of a distant door opening, and voices, speaking in the hushed tones of the household staff. Then light, faint and silvery in the dark kitchen, spilling out from the adjoining door.

"Ignis?"

Ignis shuddered. There was something about that voice that twisted the hollow pit in his chest, and made his fingers tighten involuntarily on his shoulders. He looked up. 

The man in the doorway wore a light green coat, faded with age and missing a button on the top collar. His boots were travel-worn and had, Ignis knew, a stain on the right heel where a young boy had accidentally spilled a pitcher of grape juice over the table, and he carried a heavy black bag that used to sit above a pile of towels in a faraway linen closet. His dark, tight curls had slivers of grey at the edges, and his eyes had lines Ignis could not recognize, but when he smiled, it was the same, sideways tilt of the lips that Ignis knew as though it were written on his own heart.

"I came as fast as I could," said Basil Scientia, dropping his bag. "I hope I'm not too late."


	8. Chapter 8

Years of listening in through the door of Ravus' etiquette lessons had taught Ignis how to greet kings. He knew just what to say to a high priestess of Etro, how to bow to a countess and nod to a lord, the dozens of titles and inflections of power and subservience that came with them. The words piled together in Ignis' throat, twisting into a lump that made it suddenly quite hard to breathe.

"B-bas--" he started, in a voice that cracked, and then his face collapsed, years of control falling apart in a moment.

Basil was at his side before the first tears fell, kneeling on the unswept hearth and shakily pushing Ignis' bangs from where they caught under his glasses.

"Here, now," he said, and Ignis unfolded enough to draw himself into Basil's arms, just as he had as a child. It was as though the years were stripped away between them, leaving Ignis young and small and helpless, bowing his head to cry into Basil's shoulder. Basil held the back of his head and waited patiently, there in the dark of the kitchens, for Ignis to pull himself together.

"Oh, gods," Ignis said, when he could speak again. "Your jacket."

"You always did care too much about clothes," Basil said, and passed Ignis a handkerchief from his jacket pocket. "I dare say I shall survive."

Ignis smiled, a little shakily, and sat back on his heels. Basil took his glasses for him and buffed them carefully, in a gesture so familiar that Ignis almost broke a second time. Basil made to place the glasses on Ignis' nose again, and paused.

"I apologize," he said. "You aren't a child anymore, of course--"

"It's fine," Ignis managed.

Basil fit the glasses back on for him, smoothing down his hair as he did so. "Are those the hated braces?" he asked, and Ignis hastily pressed his lips together. "They aren't so bad as all that. Come, let's get you cleaned up."

Ignis hurried to stand before Basil could haul him to his feet, and took a whistling breath through his nose. "Why are you here, though?" he asked. "Not that I--of course I want you here--"

"I gathered," Basil said, rubbing his back.

"But I thought the queen placed a ban on your contacting me at all, after that last petition fell through."

"The queen isn't here," Basil said, in a cold voice. "And the situation is dire. There's a ball you have to attend, after all."

Ignis stared.

"Noctis has been making a fuss for the last month," Basil said. He absently brushed soot off his knees. "And your sister... Ah... She may have sent me one or two letters, explaining the situation. I figured now was as good a time as any."

"I don't have my visa," Ignis said. The last time, everything has been handled through the queen. He realized, a little late, that he didn't even have an ID. So far as customs was concerned, he didn't exist.

"No matter," Basil said. "I have it handled. We should pack for two days--that is, if you want to come to the ball."

"Of course I do," Ignis said. "But I... I'll have to come back, after. I'm not of age, I can't stay."

"I know," Basil said. He squeezed Ignis' shoulder. "I may have an answer for that, as well. For now, why don't you show me your room?"

They took the side stairs up to Ignis' small quarters, and Ignis found that it took a great effort to open the door. Basil stepped into a room with a map of Lucis on the far wall, with little mismatched vases bearing flowers from the wilds, with paintings from Luna and the worn, well-loved cactuar plush on the ink-stained writing desk. Basil picked up the cactuar, running a thumb over an expertly patched-up seam. He looked at Ignis then, lips parted, but the moment to speak passed too soon, and Ignis tucked a spare suit in his travel bag.

"I have nothing to wear to a party," he said, digging through his dresser. "Nothing that won't reveal me to the king, that is."

"That's handled," Basil said. When Ignis turned to him, he shrugged. "We'll discuss it tomorrow. As it stands..."

Ignis went back to throwing his necessities in his bag, while Basil continued going through Ignis' room, lingering on the chess board, the stack of letters from Noct, the book of recipes that Ignis was only just starting to compile. He was going over Ignis' star map by the time the packing was done, and Ignis joined him there, pointing to a cluster of stars.

"True north," he said. "I finally worked it out."

Basil smiled and took his arm. "I didn't doubt you for a moment."

There were no staff in the halls on their way out, but every sound Ignis made, every door that creaked and lock that clicked, seemed to echo through the manor like cannon fire. Ignis could barely breathe by the time they made it to the wide, clipped lawns out front, and he let out a hoarse bark of laughter at the car waiting for them.

"Don't judge," Basil said. "It's a rental. Got it off a used car salesman with the worst sense of fashion this side of the Disc."

"I can imagine," Ignis said. The car was a convertible painted in garish mauve and white, with what looked like a moogle ball dangling off the end of the antenna. He threw his bag in the back seat and climbed in the side, smirking as Basil fumbled with the keys.

"Damned nuisance," Basil muttered. The engine started with a bang, and Ignis twisted round to watch the manor disappear behind the bend as they made their way down the pebbled drive and onto the streets of Tenebrae's capitol city.

Basil already had his tickets prepared at the station: two for coach, with a sleeper car they shared with a young scientist bearing what had to be at least two dozen frogs. They croaked cheerily in their containers, making conversation--and sleep--near impossible. Ignis and Basil moved to the dining car instead, where they ordered coffee and went over the plan.

"Princess Lunafreya asked for an addition to be made to the ball," Basil said, while Ignis poured the coffee. "It's a masquerade, now; With the caveat that if Noctis can find someone he prefers out of the masked members attending, the engagement needn't go through. King Regis doesn't want to see his son unhappy, so he agreed to it as a suitable compromise. The king and queen of Tenebrae..."

Ignis shook his head. "Good gods," he said. "It was like walking through a hurricane these past few weeks. No wonder. Half the staff have been taking sick leave."

"King Regis keeps chuckling during Council meetings," Basil said. "He's insufferable."

They lapsed into silence, hands wrapped around their mugs. Ignis trailed circles in the booth table with a finger, and Basil's new wrinkles doubled as his expression shifted, brows drawing together.

"I know it isn't enough," he said.

"You needn't have--" Ignis blurted, at the same time.

The train rattled and hummed as it passed into a mountain, the overhead lights rocking gently through the dark.

"You said." Basil tapped his knuckles on his mug. "You said you wanted to go to university in Lucis?"

"I did," Ignis said. "But I fear it isn't possible. When I'm seventeen, the king has the right to draft me into the army on the border, and I, well. The enrollment fees are substantial."

"But you'd have a student visa while you study there," Basil said. "You'd be exempt from the draft."

"In a perfect world," Ignis said, with a rueful smile. The train burst into the starlit woods of eastern Tenebrae, and Basil glanced out the window, tracking the blur of the canopy rising and falling alongside them.

"You're too young to be so fatalistic, Ignis," Basil said, and pulled out a much-folded square of paper. He smoothed it out and passed it to Ignis, who scanned the words, blinked hard, and tried again.

_His Majesty's Insomnian University confirms the appointment of Ignis X, of Fen. Tenebrae, to take the freshman entrance exams for the school year of spring--_

"Basil," he said.

"You don't have to," Basil said. "The gods alone know that your life has been a long string of others arranging your life for you, and I wouldn't want to--I simply wanted to give you the opportunity, if you desired--"

"But the application fees," Ignis said. His fingers shook as he picked up the paper. 

"Don't think about those," Basil said. "Think about what you want."

Ignis' voice was as quavery as his hands. "But even if I do get in, I can't..."

"I have enough set aside," Basil said, "to see you through comfortably enough."

"Your retirement," Ignis said. The lump in his throat was back. "You said you wanted to go back to Tenebrae. Find a house."

"I did go back to Tenebrae," Basil said. He placed his hands over Ignis', stilling them. He looked to the trees, the stars winking through them light the countless windows of the Insomnian skyline. "It's nice enough, I suppose, but a little cold for my liking."

"You can't," Ignis said.

"What a thought," Basil said. He squeezed Ignis' fingers. "It's the least anyone would do for someone they love."

Ignis pulled his hands away and covered his face, focusing only on breathing through his fingers. Basil sighed, and the cups clattered as the booth table tilted. He kissed Ignis' forehead, as he'd done every night before bed during the brief, perfect months of Ignis' early life, while Ignis sobbed into his hands.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably note that I've been influenced a BIT too much by obsessively watching Ever After as a kid, so Cinderella stories will always involve masks.

The docks of Altissia were strung with flower garlands, looped over balconies and lamp posts. Ignis had to stop twice to examine the lights that had been wired through them, casting the docks into a patchwork of pale blues and pinks and yellows. The crowds were thicker than before, with groups of tourists wedging themselves between Ignis and Basil every few steps, and in the end, Basil had to take Ignis' hand and guide him down a series of small, winding staircases beyond the main boardwalk. They stopped at a canal just wide enough to fit a small, rickety motorboat with a cartoon hammerhead shark painted on one side, knocking against the concrete wall of the canal with a hollow boom. The man at the helm looked up from his cigarette as Basil and Ignis appeared, and breathed out a great plume of smoke. 

"This the nephew?" he asked. His face crawled with wrinkles, and his hair was bleached by the sun, stark white against his weather-worn brow. "Don't see the resemblance, myself."

Basil tossed his bag onto the deck. "Adopted," he said, and the man laughed, short and harsh. Basil stepped into the boat and held out a hand for Ignis. 

The ride to Lucis was choppy and slow, with several stops to wait for the Altissian patrol to pass, and then they were out on the open sea. Basil stretched his long body out at the front of the boat, fitting a black sleep mask over his eyes, and Ignis sat by his feet, watching the sky wheel about them as they set a course for Lucis.

He must have slept at some point, because when he opened his eyes again, the sunrise was dawning over Angelgard. The boat rocked against the skinny dock of Galdin Quay, and the captain was sitting on a bench with Basil, smoking up a small storm cloud. Ignis winced and crawled onto the dock.

A group of Glaives waited for them, including one man with dark braids and a tattoo that looked vaguely familiar. He winked and tossed Ignis a black lump of clothes.

"Congratulations, kid," he said. "For today only, you're one of us."

A woman behind him smirked, and Ignis unfolded the jacket at the top of the bundle to reveal the silver and black uniform of the Kingsglaive.

It was amazing, really, the change that a uniform could make. The men at the border said nothing when they saw Ignis and Basil sitting in the back of the van with the other Glaives--Crowe, Libertus, and Pelna, they said, with Ignis' old magic instructor Nyx at the wheel. Ignis could see nothing of the city this time around, but hurriedly changed back into his clothes while Pelna held a hand over Crowe and Libertus' eyes.

They were dropped off at the University, just a few blocks from the Citadel. "You don't have to," Basil said, when Ignis hesitated at the door. "You can always come back another day."

"No," Ignis said. "No, I believe I can do this."

They had another hour before Ignis' exam, and Ignis spent that hour poring through university pamphlets, reading through every possible math and science program the school had to offer. Their physics courses seemed to be the most appealing, but he supposed he'd have to take poli-sci as well, if he were to help Noctis as king. He stuffed the pamphlets in his bag and tried not to look tooterrified as he entered the exam room.

He finished the maths portion of the exam so quickly that he had to read over it once just in case he'd made some terrible mistake. The other test takers were still scribbling away, some with looks of dawning panic, others grim and focused. Ignis placed his maths booklet in the designated box and tried not to notice the stares that were leveled his way.

The only subject that gave him trouble was Lucian history, but Ignis figured he'd still done a passable job. Even with the delay in the last portion of the test, he finished long before the others, and left wondering yet again if he'd skipped some vital step.

"How was it?" Basil asked, rising to his feet when Ignis came through the door. Ignis gave him a helpless shrug. "That's how testing goes, Ignis. I'm sure you did well."

Traffic around the Citadel was a disaster, so Ignis and Basil walked the rest of the way. They took the same side entrance Ignis remembered, up the mirrored stairway, and stopped at Basil's apartment, where Basil paused, ears bright red, as he turned the key in the lock.

The apartment had changed some in the past ten years. There was a new couch, a shiny coffee maker, more pictures on the walls. Ignis made his way to one and was startled to find the photo he'd sent to Basil three years past, before braces had ruined all hopes of taking a decent picture again. He padded over to his old room, only half listening to Basil speaking behind him.

The lights were still there, pinned up in wire constellations on the ceiling. There was a new bookcase, though, with a set of leather-bound books on the top shelf, and slimmer, glossy ones on the bottom. Ignis pulled one out and examined the cover.

"An introduction to particle physics," he said.

"I asked Lily Amicitia to find something suitable," Basil said. "If you choose to live elsewhere while you study, we can have them shipped."

Ignis gently set the book down. "No," he said. "No, I'd like to stay here. If you'll have me."

"You already know I will," Basil said. "Now, I should have enough for an early dinner before the ball. Sit down while I heat something up."

They had leftovers on the kitchen table, sitting in companionable silence as the air conditioner whirred and clicked in the walls. Ignis eyed the empty chair between them and imagined Noctis there, pushing vegetables around his plate like always and holding Ignis' hand under the table. The three of them in the living room, Noctis reading reports while Ignis did homework, Basil poring through the newspaper and trying not to act the chaperone. At the moment, such a dream didn't feel impossible.

After the dishes were cleared away, Basil disappeared into his bedroom. When he came out, bearing a suit on a hanger, Ignis gripped the back of his chair to steady himself.

"Princess Lunafreya sent your measurements," Basil said, grinning at Ignis' slack expression. "After all, if you're to crash an engagement party, it's only fair that you do so in style."

 

\---

 

Noctis Lucis Caelum, the only son of Regis Caelum and sacrificial lamb to the altar of political engagements, slouched his way out of the safety of a gazebo and onto the dance floor. Gladio was behind him, a firm hand pressed to his shoulder blades, smirking as Noctis dragged his feet into the light.

"You're supposed to be my Shield," Noct said. "So shield me."

"That's what I'm doin,'" Gladio said. He looked like someone out of one of the ridiculous romance novels he and Noct's friend from high school bonded over, and Noct was ready to warp to the elevator and let the horde of admirers have a piece of _him_ for a change. "You can't sulk forever, Noct."

"My whole future's being planned for me," Noct said. "Iggy hasn't written back in a month, Luna's all, all floaty and _nice,_ and Dad's laughing at me, I swear. No, really!"

Gladio rolled his eyes. "It ain't all about you, Noct."

"Gladio." Noct turned around, placing both hands on Gladio's shoulders. "This is my birthday party. And engagement party. And the end of my _life._ This time? I think it is about me."

The music dimmed, then started up again, picking up a Tenebraean reel that Noct spent the last month stumbling through. The white canvas pavilion over the dance floor fluttered in the breeze, and Lunafreya Nox Fleuret emerged from the masked, glittering crowd, like a divine messenger in a transparent, feathery mask.

"Dear Noctis," she said, and took his hands. Noct gave her a shaky smile, then looked to Gladio for help. Gladio grinned.

"Go on," Gladio said, the traitor. Noct took a step to the right, and yelped as Luna took the lead instead, whirling him into the center of the dance floor.

"I know we haven't had time to talk," she said, as her skirts twisted around Noct's legs, threatening to trip him up. "But I assure you, all will be well."

"I... I mean, I do like you," Noct said. His hands felt uncomfortably clammy. "You're a good friend."

"And I hope we can stay friends," Luna said, with a twinkling smile. "But I'm afraid I will never marry."

Noct stared. Luna spun him in a circle, let out an exaggerated gasp of surprise, and let go of Noct, raising both hands in the air. Noct went staggering, dizzy and disoriented, and he spread his hands out for balance as his new, polished shoes slipped on the slick dance floor.

A hand caught him by the elbow, and Noctis fell into the vest of a suit that glimmered like a field of stars in a summer sky. 

"Easy," said a warm, low voice. "I have you."

Noctis looked up into a blue mask, beyond which were the smoky green eyes of the most beautiful man Noct had ever seen in his life.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I guess you do."


	10. Chapter 10

For once, Ignis was grateful for Luna's use of him and Ravus as dance partners in her mandatory lessons at the manor. He led Noct through the first few steps of the dance before it struck him that taking the lead with a crown prince was scandalously rude, but by then it was far too late. Noct's hand was clutched in his in a death grip, and he stared up at Ignis as though he'd emerged like a bolt out of the blue, wreathed in light like the astrals of legend.

"How is your birthday going so far, Prince Noctis?" Ignis asked. The cape attached to his shoulders swirled about him, sparkling with the faded shapes of constellations, and his face was remarkably hot under the mask. "Have you had a chance to breathe?"

"Not." Noctis swallowed, and nearly stepped on Ignis' toes. "Not yet."

"That won't do." Ignis tightened his grip around Noct's waist and lifted him over the feet of a laughing, poorly gyrating couple to their right. Noct's breath left him in a rush. "I know what I would prefer for a royal birthday. Somewhere quiet, out of the way, possibly with a new tackle box and a kitten you've been hiding in your walk-in closet for the past three months. Does she have a name yet?"

"Stella," Noct said, numbly, and then blinked. "Wait, how do you--Who are you?"

The music died down, and Ignis stepped back with a bow. As he straightened, he lifted his mask a fraction, and called the smallest amount of frost to his fingertips. Noct's mouth fell open.

"Ig--"

But Ignis was gone, striding off towards the gazebo where Noct had been hiding when he first came in, trying to restrain a wide, ridiculous smile. He made it three feet before Noct collided with him, sending them both into a hydrangea bush with a crash. Sticky dark leaves stuck to Ignis' cheeks on the way down, and his view of the floating lights of the pavilion was blocked by Noctis, collapsing on top of him with a grunt.

"Specs!" his voice cracked, and thin fingers dug at Ignis' jacket. "I. How did you. When did you. How'd you end up like this?"

"In the bushes?" Ignis said. "I gather someone pushed me."

Noct laughed, and Ignis could finally see the boy he remembered, bright and kind and earnest. He took Noct's face in both hands, and the two of them sank fully into the bush, ruining their formal suits.

It took them five minutes to crawl out without ripping a cape to shreds or losing a shoe, and by the time they were done, they were laughing so hard that Ignis thought he might cry. He helped Noctis to his feet, and they hobbled to the pavilion, where they sat together in a tangle of limbs and smiles and bits of twigs and hydrangea blossoms. 

"Can you even see in that?" Noct asked, lifting off Ignis' mask to better pull leaves from his hair. Ignis shrugged.

"Right now, well enough. Any closer, and you look rather like a blur."

"So long as you can see me now, I'm fine," Noct said.

Ignis pushed a pink blossom from his bangs. Noctis had grown a little, not nearly as tall as his father yet, and his face had thinned out, revealing a delicate jawline and cheekbones that Ignis wanted to--

Well, he supposed he could--

He ran his hand down to Noct's cheek and tried to memorize how his face felt in his hand, how perfectly they fit together. "Your pictures don't do you credit," he said. Noct blushed.

"Sheesh, Iggy. I'm not really... I don't know what to say to that."

"Do you still believe what you said in your letter?" Ignis asked. Noct peeled off his own mask, plain black with gold dusting the corners, and Ignis marveled at how surprisingly long his lashes were.

"Do you?" Noct asked. 

Rather than answer, Ignis leaned forward. Noct closed the distance, twisting his hands in Ignis' jacket as he pressed their lips together. Ignis was painfully aware of how soft Noct's lips were compared to his own, but by the way Noct lingered, breathing in hard through his nose, he didn't seem to mind.

"Tell me you'll stay," Noct whispered.

"I'm going to university next spring," Ignis said. "I hope. I'll--"

"You can get here sooner," Noct said. His smile was verging on goofy, the same way he grinned when he met Ignis for the second time, during lessons. "Dad said if I pick someone tonight, that's it. It'll take a few weeks to finalize the engagement, but no one'll be able to take you away."

Ignis' breath caught. "An engagement is... I know you care for me, and I've always, but. Are you certain?"

"More than anything," Noct said. He kissed him again, carding a hand through Ignis' hair, and Ignis parted his lips, deepening the kiss. They fell back against the support beams of the gazebo, and jasmine flowers drifted down from the lattice above.

"I've wanted you here since I was six," Noct said. "You're my best friend, and. You know."

"You romantic," Ignis teased, and kissed Noct's beet red cheeks. "Well, I _you know_ you, too."

Noct stared at Ignis for another moment, and then, seemingly overcome by more emotion than a sixteen year old could feasibly handle, wrapped his arms around Ignis' head and wrestled him onto the bench.

A shadow crossed over the lamp lights, and they both looked up to find a tall, broad-shouldered young man with an awkward mullet and the outline of a feathered tattoo on his bare arms. 

"Noct?" he said.

"Gladio?" 

"Iggy?"

Noct yelped indignantly as Gladio grabbed Ignis, hauling him up into a bone-crushing hug. "Holy Etro, Iggy, the hell happened to you? You don't look like a drowned cat anymore."

"And you've... certainly grown," Ignis managed to gasp. Gladio quickly let go, then embraced him harder than before.

"So, what," Gladio said, as Ignis wheezed for breath on the bench. "It worked out? You two made your decision?" Ignis and Noctis gave him equally blank looks. "It's just, Princess Luna told me I had to have Noct out during that last song, so I figured she had something planned. This is it, right?"

"No offense, but your sister is kind of scary sometimes," Noctis said.

"You don't know the half of it," Ignis said. They smiled at each other, and Noct took Ignis' hand, threading their fingers together.

"Huh," Gladio said, and Ignis jerked to attention. "Yeah. So. I'm thinkin', before people start catchin' on, you gotta get to the king. Let him know."

"Oh, gods," Ignis breathed.

Noct shook his shoulder. "It'll be fine. Promise."

They stood, scattering stray leaves, and in his hurry to take Noct's hand, Ignis forgot to replace his mask. He was about ten paces out when he reached for his face, flushing dark.

"I'll be a moment," he said. Noctis made a soft sound of protest, but Ignis kissed him swiftly before letting go. He trotted back to the gazebo, breathing in the cool night air, and groped in the dark for the mask. His hand slid over the smooth bench, but he found no cloth, no stiff gems at the edge of the ribbon. It wasn't until he ducked down to look beneath the bench that he heard heavy footsteps behind him.

"Gladio," he said. "Thank you, I can't see a damn without my spectacles."

The hand that pressed down on Ignis' shoulder was too thin and pale to belong to Gladio. He twisted round to look up into the bearded face of the man in charge of the Tenebraean royal guard, his milky grey eyes mournful under sagging lids. The missing mask dangled in his free hand, catching the light off the pavilion.

"Gods above, boy," he said. "You just couldn't leave well enough alone."


	11. Chapter 11

"Look, kid, you're just making it worse."

Ignis' feet dragged on the asphalt as he was yanked upwards by the guards holding his arms, slamming his back into the side of a van. He'd been marched out of the Citadel entirely, into a small garage where his captors quickly set about to dismantling the security system at the gate. His cape was torn at last, dangling down one shoulder, and he tried to school his face into the same bland look he used when the king fell into a rage and most of the staff had to tiptoe in the serving halls.

"The king didn't bother to come this time, did he?" Ignis asked. The commander of the guard, Captain Hugo, only adjusted his gloves. "I suppose he wouldn't. Can't have the king of Tenebrae himself be found beating one of his subjects, can w--"

He hissed as an open-handed palm struck his cheek, making the back of his head bang against the van.

"It will go better for you," the captain said, "if you remain silent. Our orders are to ship you back to Tenebrae, to the fortress at Helahn. There, you'll receive the training you clearly need--"

"I'm not yet seventeen," Ignis said. The captain raised his hand, but he didn't look away. "It's illegal to conscript an underage boy."

"You're hardly a boy," the captain said. "You're just as conniving as your father, trying to sleep your way to royal favor like a common whore. The prince--"

"Loves me," Ignis said. This time, the second blow came, and Ignis tasted copper on his tongue. "That will be the last time you strike me," he warned.

"Really." The captain removed his gloves. "It's no matter. You, _boy,_ are a blank slate. Oh, yes, you say you're not seventeen, but there's no way to tell. No papers, see?"

"Then that doesn't make this--" Ignis huffed in frustration at the twitch of the captain's hand. "This isn't a conscription, then. It's a kidnapping."

"Clever," the captain said. "But you will learn to hold your tongue."

When he reared his arm back, the captain found his hand descending on a dome of light, hard as glass and sectioned like dragon scales, glimmering with the rainbow of pure magic.

"I told you," Ignis said, as the captain curled over his twisted fingers. "That was the last time."

 

\---

 

While Gladiolus Amicitia had spent the past decade training to be a physical shield to the future king, his greatest strength lay in the fact that he was, in essence, exactly like his mother.

Noctis held onto the back of Gladio's shirt, letting his older friend charm a path through the crowd. Gladio gasped at whispered news, winked past flirtations, called elderly doctors by their first names and patted council members aside like old friends at a soirée. The only sign of tension lay in the tightness of the muscles of his back, and Noctis slipped by with him like a flustered child on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"There they are," Gladio said. "Royal face on, Noct."

Noct pinched his lips together in what he hoped was a neutral expression. Gladio winced.

"Good enough."

They'd only turned their backs on Ignis for a moment. He'd been right there, climbing the steps of the gazebo--but then there'd been that gaggle of rich kids who'd followed Noct around all night, crowding up right between them and Ignis, and Gladio swore up and down that he saw someone in a Tenebraean uniform pushing through the crowd.

Then Ignis was gone, his mask draped over the ends of a scraggly bush near the back of the gazebo.

So there Noct was, standing in front of Ravus Fucking Nox Fleuret and the nicest, most terrifying matchmaker of Tenebrae, trying not to look like he was about to fall apart at the seams.

Luna noticed immediately. Of course.

"Noctis," she said, stepping forward to take his burning face in both hands. It was a gesture so like Ignis' that Noct had to hold his breath, too anxious to speak. "What happened? Did Ignis say no? He couldn't have said no."

"He's gone," Noct said.

"We think one of yours took him," Gladio said, glaring at Ravus. Ravus' cheeks colored.

"I wouldn't," he said. Luna glanced at him sidelong, and he shuffled his ridiculously polished shoes. "But if the king had a hand in this, I may know where he's been taken."

The departure of three members of two royal families did not go unnoticed. Noct could hear cries of alarm behind them as he and Gladio held Luna's foot so she could vault the garden wall, and flashlights flickered all over the closed-off paths leading out of the Citadel.

"He'll want him out of the way," Ravus panted, red-faced and sweating through his thick white suit. "He can't be taken to one of our rooms. Too noticeable."

"A car?" Luna asked. Unlike Ravus, she was hardly out of breath. She kept pace with Gladio while Noct and Ravus staggered and wheezed behind them, her high-heeled shoes dangling from her fingers. "Then we're heading in the wrong direction. The guard keeps their vehicles in the garage south of the library. I remembered, you see, because I wanted to get Noctis' friend to take pictures for Ignis--"

Ravus and Noct groaned in chorus, and the four of them veered around, heading back the way they came.

The garage was small, squat, and easy to miss: Noct had to stop twice to gasp and read the street signs, and his heart was beating double time when the entrance crept into view, a pit of blackness behind the closed grille.

"Shit," he said, and grabbed the grille with both hands. Gladio sighed and pushed him aside, and he and Ravus managed to lift the grille just enough for it to break, stuck lifted about three feet off the asphalt.

Noct was crouching down to slip underneath when he heard footsteps. A light, uneven gait, with the hint of a shuffle. A figure stepped out of the darkness, indistinct with shadow, and it wasn't until the light of Gladio's phone hit the stars on his ragged cape that Noct recognized him as Ignis. Ignis looked up, blinked, and held his hand out in a gesture Noct knew from his own magic lessons, trying to summon a wall.

"Ignis," Noct said, and Ignis slumped, the tight, tense energy draining out of him in a breath. Noct skidded under the grille and ran for him, catching Ignis in his arms before his knees could buckle.

"Noct." Ignis moved to adjust glasses he didn't have, and smiled, faint and rueful. "I fear his majesty's guardsmen are. Ah. Trapped in their van." Noctis opened his mouth, and Ignis shrugged. "I may have welded the doors shut. They probably have enough air to last for a while."

"Better than they deserve," Noct said, and kissed him, tasting of sweat and adrenaline and the sharp, hot sting of magic. Ignis kissed him back, raising shaking hands to his hair, and it wasn't until he heard a light cough behind them that Noct realized they had an audience.

"Hate to break it up," Gladio said, peering out from behind the grille. "But I think we _really_ gotta talk to the king _this_ time."

 

\---

 

In the stories Ignis read, grand rescues always ended with the hero on a horse in a field somewhere, relishing the joy of their freedom with an unburdened heart. They never mentioned holding back tearful, furious sisters with murder in their eyes, of a brother's awkward hand on their shoulder, of soldiers in Crownsguard black filing out of the dark streets, ready with a night's worth of questions. 

They never talked about the bone-deep exhaustion that crashed over one without warning, leading to an unsteady, shuffling parade of yawns and creaking bones.

They never talked about fear.

Ignis stood before the silent, wary crowd gathered in the pavilion, hands clasped together behind his back, too aware of the vague, faraway look on the king of Tenebrae's face. King Regis, holding court in his formal suit, Cor Leonis at his back, looked stony and grim.

Behind him, Noctis gave Ignis a pained grimace.

"We find ourselves in a curious position," King Regis said. "As we have gathered upon investigating the disturbance this evening, it has been found that this young man bears no formal paperwork, no proof of identification or, indeed, homeland. Can anyone here make a claim on the man standing before us now?"

It was not the kindest thing he could have done. Ignis could see it in the way the queen's eyes went wide, in the pallor of her cheeks and the curl of her fingers. She could not claim him as hers in front of a crowd of the Lucian upper-class. But she could, Ignis realized, claim him as one of her staff. All she needed to say was that he was a foundling child, a servant at the manor, the son of a soldier long dead in the endless war. Then Ignis would go back to Tenebrae, where the king's soldiers awaited him, and pray his magic could see him through a second time.

Her gaze met his. She'd always been unreadable, too lofty for Ignis to touch, but now, Ignis could see her mind as easily as though she were speaking in his ear.

This was goodbye. The final farewell to a child she could never truly embrace, never raise, never call to as she had with Ravus and Luna. In her silence, she was finally letting him go. 

"I claim him." That was Basil, dressed in his work uniform, stepping out from a line of attendants. "I found him as a child, alone on the steps of the Citadel. I claim him."

There was a long, breathless silence. 

"Well," King Regis said. "I suppose that will have to do. Ignis Scientia."

Ignis' breath hitched. If this was how policy was done, with a nod of the head and a word from the king, he had a sudden, pressing desire to flee to the desert. "Y-yes, your majesty?"

King Regis' stone face slipped just a moment, enough for his eyes to crinkle in the soft smile Ignis remembered. "Do you have an objection to this claim?"

"No, your majesty," Ignis said. 

King Regis nodded. "Well, then. I see no reason why the child of Basil Scientia should not marry my son. In time," he added, and his smile flickered again. "When you're older."

Ignis bowed. Before he could straighten, Luna skipped up to his side, drawing him upright so she could squash his cheeks together in front of the entire Lucian court. Gladio let out a strangled sort of cough, and Noct squeaked.

"'nk oo," Ignis said, through pursed lips. Luna stood on tiptoe to kiss his forehead.

"There is, however," King Regis said, in a voice so cold that Luna's smile froze on her lips, "the troubling matter of the attempted abduction of my son's fiancé."

Ignis, Luna, Ravus, and Noctis all looked to the king of Tenebrae, who stood still as a wooden statue, refusing to look in Ignis' direction. The queen caught the heat of their stares, and turned to her husband with a frown.

"Rest assured, this matter will not be forgotten. But tonight is for my son. For now, it is his wishes that I will honor."

"Then I have one," Noct said, lurching forward to take Ignis' hand. "Now that it's over."

"Anything you like," King Regis said.

Noct smiled.

\---

"Well," Ignis said, thirty minutes later. "This is one way to celebrate a birthday."

Noct snorted, and tacked the line of his fishing rod, jiggling a golden lure across the water. He sat on the end of the dock behind the royal gardens, his fine trousers rolled up to the knee, jacket draped over a post a few yards off. There were Crownsguard pacing the border of the garden, little lights bobbing through rose bushes and marsh grass, but the two of them were, for all intents and purposes, alone on the dock.

Tomorrow, there would be inquiries. There would be long discussions with the Crownsguard, questions made, lies told, names rewritten. And then there would be dinner with Basil, and a night in his own bed, in an apartment that was still home after a decade apart.

But now, with Noctis' hands on the reel and Ignis' bare feet making ripples in the pond, there was just this. Just them, watching stars shift and warp over the surface of the water, shoulders pressed together, Ignis' hand kneading through Noct's hair.

Just two boys, and the stars, and the silence of a new world unfolding before them, bright and vast and wonderful.


	12. Epilogue

Long ago, in the crowded city of Insomnia, a young man known as Ignis Scientia was given a second name.

"Breaking news," he said, hanging his jacket next to Basil's on a hook by the door. Basil looked up from a floury disaster brewing on the kitchen counter and raised an eyebrow. Ignis flipped the seal of a thick pad of papers, letting them fall open.

"How does Ignis Scientia Caelum sound to you?" he said. The county clerk's official marriage certificate flopped onto the kitchen table. 

"Doctor," Basil said, and went back to sifting sugar.

"Pardon?" Ignis asked. He lined his shoes up at the foyer and stepped into his slippers. 

" _Doctor_ Ignis Scientia Caelum," Basil said. "Master of physics."

Ignis sighed. Ever since his graduation that spring, Basil had made it his life's duty to inform every breathing soul on the planet that _his_ boy (yes, that one there, marrying the prince this fall, you know) was one of the youngest students to receive his doctorate in nearly thirty years. Ignis wouldn't have put it past him to be found distributing flyers some day soon, complete with every accolade Ignis had ever received, including the gold star he got in maths at age seven.

Ignis intercepted the sifter, and examined the array of bowls spread out on the counter. "Pastry experiment again, I see."

"Tenebraean tarts," Basil said. "Which you can certainly take over for me, with my blessing." He ruffled Ignis' hair and kissed his temple. "How do you feel about tomorrow? Nervous?"

"I'm marrying Noctis," Ignis said, rescuing what looked like a disaster of a pie crust in the making. "The man I have found, on more than one occasion, sleeping with his face on a keyboard. I expect I'll be fine."

Basil gave him a knowing look, settling back to lean against the stove. "You're avoiding my eyes again."

"Oh, well," Ignis said, fetching ice water. "Perhaps there _might_ be the tiniest matter of the whole affair being televised for three nations to see."

Basil pushed off the stove and picked a blackberry from the bowl in the corner. "Would you believe I've been approached to let a camera crew film your last evening here?" 

Ignis shuddered dramatically, and Basil patted his cheek. "Perish the thought."

They ate in silence that night, Ignis flipping through reports, Basil scanning the newspaper, while their phones pinged and hummed with texts and notifications in the living room. The tarts were salvageable, so Ignis made sure to pack a few for Noctis before they set to work washing the dishes.

Ignis waited for Basil to pick a spot on the couch before he sat, and Basil gave him a curious, thoughtful look, tapping his fingers on his mug of tea on the nightstand.

"When I first saw you," Basil said, and stopped. Ignis set his own tea down, and Basil cleared his throat. "You were such a tiny thing. I couldn't imagine why anyone would have left you to be shipped to a strange, new country on your own. Now, I... I can't imagine what my life would have been like without having met you. It's been an honor, Ignis."

Ignis laid a hand on Basil's shoulder. "It isn't over yet," he said. "Just wait until your first grandchild."

"So soon?" Basil said, a note of panic in his eyes. Ignis laughed and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Basil's, and closed his eyes to the feel of a familiar hand cradling the back of his head. 

Ignis knew that for most, _happily ever after_ was the sort of business left for daydreams and myth. It was an impossible ideal, as unreachable as a star, the light at its heart gone too soon.

But there, in Basil's apartment on the eve of his wedding, Ignis supposed he could give it a shot.


End file.
